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Chapter Text

Hydra Base,

North East Scotland

March, 17th

Batman stood in an underground bunker, looking at a monitor, as the League and Avengers, in a rare moment of civility, worked together to destroy a base of the Bureau of Normalcy, a branch of Hydra. On the monitor, were the files of children that the criminal organization had kidnapped through the years. Children from all countries and races, rich or poor. These people had experimented on thousands of children. There were records of attempted super soldiers, genetic mutations and exposure to powerful, magical and dangerous sources.The oppressive silence of the subterranean bunker was interrupted only by the soft hum of technology and the grim determination etched on Batman's face. The monitor before him flickered with disturbing images - a stark testament to the horrors inflicted by Hydra's Bureau of Normalcy. It was a macabre slideshow of stolen childhoods, each frame a chilling reminder of the countless children abducted and subjected to unimaginable cruelties.

The files detailed a systematic process of dehumanization, where innocent victims from diverse backgrounds were reduced to mere test subjects. Hydra's twisted scientists, driven by a ruthless pursuit of power, had subjected these children to a horrific array of experiments. Some were injected with volatile serums in a grotesque attempt to manufacture super soldiers, their young bodies wracked with pain as they were forced to endure agonizing transformations. Others were subjected to radiation and mutagenic agents, their DNA irrevocably altered, their futures forever tainted by the insidious hand of Hydra.

The bunker's cold, sterile environment seemed to amplify the chilling reality of Hydra's crimes. Batman's jaw clenched as he delved deeper into the files, his heart heavy with the weight of untold suffering. Each child's story was a tragedy, a testament to the depths of human depravity and the insidious nature of unchecked power. The stark white walls and the harsh fluorescent lighting reflected off the lenses that covered Batman's eyes, mirroring the coldness that had seeped into his soul. The air was thick with the stench of antiseptic and the faint metallic tang of blood, a constant reminder of the horrors that had taken place within these walls.

He had seen darkness before, had faced evil in its many forms, but this... this was different. This was the calculated, systematic destruction of innocence, a perversion of science and the exploitation of the vulnerable. It was a cruelty that defied comprehension, a violation of the very essence of humanity. Each file contained a life, a potential future, mercilessly snuffed out by Hydra's cruel experiments. The children's faces stared back at him, their eyes filled with a terror and pain that would forever haunt his dreams.

Most of those children had not lived through their experiments. Their small, broken bodies, subjected to unimaginable tortures, had been discarded like refuse, their ashes scattered to the wind. Their lives, their potential, their dreams, all extinguished before they had even begun. Batman's heart ached for those lost souls, for the futures they would never have, for the love they would never know.

Of those who had survived, less than fifty, they were sold to governments and other criminal organizations around the world. They were commodities, weapons, their minds and bodies twisted and warped to serve the agendas of those who had purchased them. Their childhoods stolen, their futures bleak, they were ghosts, haunting the shadows of a world that had failed them. Batman swore to himself that he would find them, that he would bring them justice, that he would give them a chance at the life they had been denied.

"Batman," came Superman's voice through his com, a stark contrast to the deafening silence of the bunker. Batman forced himself to focus on the present, on the task at hand.

Batman kept scrolling through files of the living children as he responded, "Go for Batman." He committed their names and faces to memory, vowing to find them, to rescue them from the darkness that had consumed their lives.

"We've subdued the last of the enemy targets. The base is secured. I'm standing in front with Wonder Woman, Captain America and Hawkeye. Green Lantern, Hawkman, Hawkgirl and Thor are moving all the destroyed vehicles a few miles west of here for easy clean up. Flash and Manhunter are collecting the scattered personnel to place them in a secluded area until the authorities arrive and take over custody. How are things on your end?"

Superman's voice was steady, reassuring, a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded Batman. But even his optimism couldn't penetrate the despair that had settled over Batman's heart.

“I’m sifting through and downloading the files of the people Hydra used as test subjects. Should be done in five.”

“Roger that. Are any of the Avengers down there with you?”

“No. Though I won’t be surprised if Widow or Stark show up soon.”

“You know, I kinda enjoyed working with the Avengers together today.”

Batman rolled his eyes, “Hm.”

“What?” Superman questioned.

“Nothing.”

“Yes there is something, you always have a response.”

“I have nothing to say on the subject.”

“Bruce,” Superman murmured, “I know you don’t like working with them but come on, be honest with yourself. We did good work here today.”

Bruce didn’t answer as his eye snagged on a file he had just opened. “We can talk about that later. Right now we have a group of Metahumans three floors down in cells. Send Diana, and Flash if he’s done.”

“I can come with you,” Superman said, ever vigilant and ready to assist. Batman thought for one second, as he removed his drive from the computer. “No, you need to be topside for when the authorities arrive. I’d rather not leave the debrief to the Avengers.”

Batman cuts the comms as he leaves the office and races to the elevator. He forced the doors open and used his grapple gun to descend to the sub level, relieved that the elevator was above him at the top floor. Prying the lower’s elevator doors open, he enters a stark white, sterile hallway. There are no windows or doors, except for one at the far end. Switching his lenses to infrared, he detects no laser lines or other security measures. Batman quietly makes his way down the hall, wary of what might be behind the door. It opens silently when he scans the ID he had taken from a fleeing scientist. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

There was a round room with ten doors along the wall at three foot intervals. He went to the closest door to his right and peaked inside. On the surprisingly soft looking bed was a boy who looked to be in his teenage years. His body was well built with muscle, brown skin looked healthy. The boy lay on the bed, one leg crossed over the other with a hand behind his head, the other hand holding a book that he was reading.

Batman went to the other doors and discovered that each of the other cells contained a person, except four of them. Each door contained a serial number under the window.

Batman opens the projection window on his arm brace and searches the drive of data that he’d copied for the serial number. His search finds one file.

Project SHADOW HAUNT

Code Name: Obsidian

Birth Name: Zabini, Blaise, Antonio

Age: 16

Nationality: British-Italian

Skin: Brown

Hair: Black

Eyes: Violet

Background

The subject's parents, Giovanni and Mariana Zabini, are homo magi. Three months after the subject's birth, Giovanni was assassinated. Mariana left the child with a family friend and disappeared two weeks later; her last known location was Nepal. The family friend presumed Mariana was deceased and placed the subject in a Sicilian orphanage at just under four months old.

Abilities

At age five, Agent 62 observed the subject interacting with shadows; he was able to lengthen the shadow and make it appear three-dimensional. When Agent 62 called out, the shadow returned to normal. Agent 62 contacted HQ, who removed the subject from the orphanage and into our custody until we deemed him old enough for experimentation.

At age seven the Head Scientist tested the subject with a Black Diamond. The subject disappeared for three days. Upon returning, he displayed exceptional control over his powers. The Head Scientist has identified his abilities as Umbrakinesis, Shadow Manipulation, or Control of Darkness.

Personality

At age fourteen the subject became aware of his attractiveness and began  to utilize it to manipulate others. He has successfully manipulated several scientists, female and male into doing his bidding, like bringing him food and allowing him out of his room. Subject Obsidian shows no attachment to anyone except Subjects Typhoon, Sapphire, Voltage, and Phantom. He has a soft spot for Subject Emerald, but using Emerald to coerce Obsidian is ill-advised. He dislikes Subject Scarlet but tolerates her brother, Subject Silver.

Shadow Training & Reunion with Mother

At age eight, the subject was temporarily assigned to a League of Shadows contact. Upon his return, he reported that he somehow located his mother through the shadows. He disappeared for a week; during that time, eight men were found murdered in Sicily, just a week after the subject's mother reappeared. The official report states that the men were illegal animal traders, and the animals escaped and killed them.

Mariana Zabini has taken up residence in the magical community in Britain and inherited a substantial sum of money from the wills of four of the deceased men. Agent 87, stationed in the magical government of Britain, has reported seeing the subject and Mariana together every year for her summer birthday ball since the subject turned 8. The subject has left his cell, unauthorized, three times a year to be with his mother: for his birthday, for Mariana's birthday, and for the new year. Attempts to stop him have been unsuccessful.

Assessment & Recommendation

The subject can generate darkness, create weapons and shields out of shadows, and disappear and appear from shadows ("Shadow Travel"). He can take others Shadow Traveling; the highest number so far is three. The subject has been deemed a success. Consideration has been given to planting him in the Italian Wizarding World.

Wonder Woman and Flash entered the room, their footsteps echoing in the sterile, white-walled chamber. Batman, his brow furrowed in concentration, continued scrolling through the digitized files of the 'Subjects' nodding at Flash’s greeting.

"Batman," Wonder Woman's voice, clear and resonant, cut through the silence, "Superman mentioned you were investigating cells containing living children. Are they alright?"

Batman deactivated the projection, his expression grim as he turned to face his companions. "These files indicate that these cells housed children who survived Hydra's experimentation phase. They possess extraordinary abilities. Hydra's intention was to raise them here, then 'rent' them out to other criminal organizations. Upon their return, they were subjected to further testing to assess any changes in their abilities. If improvements were detected, they would be contracted out or planted in positions of power within governments or corporations."

"That's horrific," Wonder Woman's voice was laced with anger, "What do we do?"

"Free them," Batman's voice was firm, "Offer them the chance to integrate into society after they've been debriefed. Some have parents, some don't. We'll need to check in on them periodically to ensure they're adjusting well. Once they reach adulthood, they should be allowed to live their own lives. "

Wonder Woman studied Batman for a moment, “And if they want to help take down the group that did these things to them?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Wonder Woman nodded then strode purposefully towards the cell containing Subject Sapphire, Daphne Joan Greengrass. The teenage girl, her intense blue eyes wide with apprehension, pressed herself against the back wall as Diana effortlessly broke the door handle, freeing her.

Meanwhile, Flash vibrated his hand at superhuman speed, disabling the locking mechanisms on the doors of Subjects Typhoon (Perseus Jackson), Voltage (Jason Grace), and Phantom (Dean Thomas).

Batman approached Blaise Zabini's cell, only to find it empty. He whirled around, his senses on high alert, just in time to see the boy materialize from the shadow of the console at the center of the room. Beside him stood another boy, his shoulder-length black hair framing a face with startlingly bright green eyes.

The six teens - five boys and one girl - clustered together, their postures tense, their eyes darting around the room, clearly on guard.

"Hello, I'm Diana Prince, Princess of Themyscira, but you can call me Diana," Wonder Woman said calmly and reassuringly. "I'm a member of the Justice League, and I'm also known as Wonder Woman. We received a tip about Hydra, the organization that ran this facility, and the missing children that were supposedly being housed here. The Justice League and the Avengers worked together to capture the Hydra employees and free the children. Unfortunately," Diana paused, searching for the right words.

A boy with light green eyes and dark, windswept hair interrupted, "You discovered that there are no children here, except for us." Like the other boys, his physique showed the results of a consistent workout routine, but his build was leaner, like that of a swimmer.

Diana nodded, "Yes. Batman," she gestured towards him, "found files that led us here. We've come to take you away from this place."

"Where are we going? I refuse to be placed in another laboratory," Perseus, the boy, stated with his arms crossed. The other children nodded in agreement.

Batman replied, "The files we recovered indicate that some of you have living relatives. We can contact them and inquire whether they are interested in meeting you and potentially taking you into their homes."

At that moment, Iron Man, Thor, Captain America, and Black Widow entered with two individuals whom Batman did not recognize. One was a male, approximately six feet tall with dirty blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. The female was five foot eight with red hair and brown eyes. She smiled at the children when she entered the room.

Batman observed the children's reaction to the female. They all seemed to take a step back and cluster together. Blaise, in particular, seemed to tense as if he were going to attack the female at the first movement she made.

"Hiya, Bats," came Tony Stark's voice from inside his red and gold armor, "and Lady W! It is a pleasure to see you! It has been a long time! Is that Flash? I admire your spandex, though perhaps you should consider one of my nanotech suits." Batman eyed Stark with irritation.

"What is happening here?" Captain America inquired as he wiped some perspiration from his brow.

"HYDRA has been experimenting on children. Unfortunately, most of their victims did not survive. Those who have are already deeply embedded within other governments, corporations, or terrorist groups. These six have been experimented on, but during our assault on the compound, they were left behind."

"Eight," stated the woman Batman didn't recognize, "the eight of us were experimented on by HYDRA. My brother and I were experimented on in Sokovia and then transferred among other bases to demonstrate to surviving children of the other bases what they could become."

"Yes, but unlike us, you volunteered to work for these people," growled Zabini. The redhead's face tightened as she looked at him.

"That was when I was young and did not know any better."

Zabini scoffed, "That's a convenient excuse. Though I suppose that's what you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night."

"I am serious! I did not know any better; back then, I was angry and wanted to do something that mattered," cried the girl. Batman eyed her discreetly while Wonder Woman and the Flash shared a look.

Zabini rolled his eyes, but it was the blonde girl, Daphne, who responded in a chillingly clipped tone, "Just when did you decide that what you were doing was wrong? Was it after you turned Franklin's mind into mush or after they threatened to kill your brother in retaliation for what you did to Anastasia?" 

"Let's settle down!" Captain America barked as he stood in front of the redheaded woman as if he were shielding her from the others.. "She’s just a child who did not know any better! Yes, she did some bad things, but she's trying to be better than that. I think your efforts to protect the world recently are commendable, Wanda."

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow at Captain America’s words, taking note of the irritated emotions on the faces of the teens. “Follow me.” With a warm smile, she gestured for the teens to follow after Batman. 

Emerging from the stark confines of the compound into the crisp morning air, they were met by the sight of Superman and Green Lantern, their figures silhouetted against the backdrop of the rising sun. The two heroes stood beside a pair of imposing aircraft, their metallic bodies gleaming in the early light, their sleek lines and advanced technology hinting at the speed and power they possessed.

Superman, his expression a warm contrast to the cool morning air, greeted the six teenagers with a reassuring smile. "We'll be taking these Javelins to a secure location," he explained, his voice a calm anchor in the sea of uncertainty, "a safe house where you'll be provided with accommodations and everything you need until we can determine the next steps."

Chapter Text

Mount Justice

Happy Harbor

June 24th

The next steps, as it turned out, was attempting to reconnect the six of them with their families and the outside world. In the months and days since they’d been liberated from the Scotland compound, the six teenagers had been living in the old headquarters of the Justice League. Understanding that all of the teens had magic and needed someone to help them continue training their abilities, Batman requested a friend of his, Giovanni Zatara, to mentor the teens. Zatara was happy to help, as it also gave him a chance to have his fourteen year old daughter develop new friendships. He offered to bring her to the cave, but Zatanna, for reasons he’d yet to uncover, refused. 

Upon meeting them in the lounge area of Mount Justice, Zatara was shocked to discover that The-Boy-Who-Lived, now lived in America. “By the gods, this is where you’ve been? Pardon my manners Mr.Potter, my name is Giovanni Zatara and it is wonderful to meet you.”

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Harry’s voice was full of suspicion as he took a small step backwards.

Zatara blinked, “Every witch and wizard in the world knows your name, Mr. Potter. Your story has become a legend. You, the only survivor of the assault on the Potter Cottage in Godric’s Hollow, by the Dark Wizard Voldemort. Word has it that he cast the unblockable, Killing Curse at you, but somehow, you caused it to rebound, destroying him and giving you that scar on your forehead.”

Harry reached up and ran his finger over his scar, “My scar, was caused by someone trying to kill me? Why?”

Zatara nodded as his eyes traveled up to the scar, “I’m sorry to say I haven't a clue. The Blood War began in the year I was born. I grew up in the seventies in Italy and my parents would receive news about the state of the British Wizarding War from our local newspaper, L'Osservatore Magico ( The Magical Observer ). My mother was afraid because her sister lived in the UK, and was a half-blood.” 

"A half-blood? You mean a demigod like Jason and Percy?" asked Harry, taking a seat on one of the chairs around the table.

"No. In Wizarding terms, it’s about blood status.” Zatara said. 

“Like blood type? Like A negative, B positive, O negative?” Dean asked. 

“Not quite. Blood status meaning whether or not someone was born of magical or non-magical parents. A pure-blood is someone who has magical ancestors at least four generations back on both their father’s and mother’s sides of their family. A witch or wizard who has a child with a muggle or muggle-born has a child that is considered a half-blood. A muggle-born typically is the child of two muggles, or a first generation witch or wizard.” Zatara explained patiently, his voice tinged with an air of scholarly authority. "Blood status was a deeply ingrained prejudice in the Wizarding World back then. Still is in some areas. Pure-blood supremacists, like those who followed Voldemort, believed that magical abilities should only belong to those of 'pure' magical ancestry, and half-bloods, and to an even worse extent, first generation witches and wizards were treated as inferior." 

“In Britain, many pure-bloods call first gens, muggle-borns or mudbloods if they want to be especially rude,” added Blaise.

Giovanni's lips pursed, “Yes, a terribly disgusting term.”

Percy scratched his head, “So you’re saying that Voldemort and the pure-bloods wanted to get rid of anyone who isn’t a pure-blood.”

“Yes,” Daphne answered, her voice cool and measured, “Though it’s important to understand that not all purebloods subscribed to his views. I remember my stepmother arguing with my father about why he wouldn’t teach me the ‘right ways’. I’m sure, by now, she’s completely brainwashed Astoria.”

 “So there were pure-bloods who were against Voldemort?” Jason asked. 

“Yes. You see, this ‘blood purity’ stuff has been around before Voldemort. It’s been simmering for centuries. Voldemort twisted that belief and then promised the extremist pure-bloods that they could cleanse the Wizarding world of the undesirables, and then the mundane world of No-majs.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” Harry said as he sat back in the chair. Zatara nodded as he summoned a tray with a pitcher of water and a glass. He made several duplicates of the glass, and poured water into each of them, before floating a glass to each of the teens.

“Mr. Zatara,” Jason said, breaking the small moment of silence as he reached for the glass that floated over to him, “when you first looked at Harry, you seemed to be shocked to see him here. Why?”

Zatara flicked his wand. In the air beside him, a newspaper appeared. On the front page in bold print was the title ‘The Boy Who Wasn't There: Potter Snubs Hogwarts, Leaving Witches and Wizards in Disarray!’

“Wait what?!” cried Harry sitting up in the chair.

"This is an article that came out in Britain a few years ago, when Mr. Potter here missed the train to his first year at Hogwarts." Percy and Dean shared a look before snickering. Harry heard something about pigfarts but chose to ignore that.

“Can I see the paper?” Blaise said. Zatara nodded and floated it over to him. Blaise caught the it and began to read aloud.

“ The scene at Platform 9 ¾ yesterday was one of unprecedented pandemonium. Masses of witches and wizards, their robes rustling with anticipation, crammed onto the platform, their eyes glued to the barrier, awaiting the arrival of… well, you know who, not evil one. The air crackled with an almost tangible electricity – the kind that only the presence of The Boy Who Lived can conjure. Everyone, it seemed, was desperate for a glimpse, a photograph, perhaps even a stray hair (though I, for one, wouldn't recommend trying to pluck one – you never know what kind of jinx might be attached!).

The scarlet steam engine, the Hogwarts Express, stood poised like a magnificent, fire-breathing dragon, ready to whisk away a new generation of witches and wizards to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. But as the minutes ticked by, a palpable sense of bewilderment began to ripple through the crowd. Eleven o'clock came… and went. The train, with a mournful whistle, glided out of the station… without Harry Potter on board!

The disappointment was, to put it mildly, crushing. One could practically hear the collective deflation of hundreds of hopeful hearts. I spotted Doris Crawford, owner of "Doris's Delectable Delights" in Vertict Alley, looking utterly crestfallen. “I closed my shop for the entire morning!” she wailed, clutching a slightly crumpled scrap of parchment. “I was hoping for a chance to meet him, maybe even get an autograph! It’s for my niece, Esmerelda. You see she’s simply mad about him.”

And it wasn't just shopkeepers and starstruck children who were left reeling. Even the Minister for Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, was spotted lurking near the platform entrance, looking distinctly flustered and clutching a rather ostentatious, gold-framed photograph of… well, I think we all know who it was meant to be of. One can only assume he was hoping for a pre-departure photo opportunity to boost his own popularity. (Honestly, the lengths some people will go to…)

Naturally, your intrepid reporter immediately scented a scoop. I stormed the Ministry, demanding answers. After a great deal of badgering (and a strategically placed, perfectly timed coughing fit near a particularly dusty filing cabinet), I overheard a flustered-sounding witch from the Department of Education whisper something about Hogwarts never receiving a reply to his enrollment letter. Never! The implications were staggering!

My investigation continued, dear readers. I delved into the dusty, moth-eaten archives of the Department of Magical Minor Welfare, hoping to unearth Potter’s address. Perhaps a discreet owl… or even a personal visit? (One must be thorough, after all). But alas! Every single document pertaining to Potter’s place of residence was heavily redacted, blacked out with an infuriatingly thorough charm. Someone, it seemed, was very keen on keeping The Boy Who Lived… well, hidden.

An owl to Hogwarts was my next recourse. A curt, yet surprisingly prompt, reply arrived from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore himself. "Mr. Potter," it stated in Dumbledore's elegant, looping script, "has decided not to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." No explanation. No apologies. Just… that.

I then had the exquisite pleasure of speaking with the illustrious Lucius Malfoy, a man whose unwavering commitment to pure-blood ideals is as legendary as his impeccable fashion sense. "It's regrettable, naturally," Lord Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with the disdain only an aristocrat can muster, "that my son, Draco, won't have the opportunity to... acquaint himself with Mr. Potter at Hogwarts. Perhaps next year. One can only hope." Ah, but what's this I detect beneath the surface, dear readers? Could it be a flicker of paternal disappointment that his young heir won't be rubbing shoulders with the Boy Who Lived?

Lady Augusta Wimborne, never one to shy away from outlandish declarations (or, let's be honest, blatant fabrications) about the world, was quick to voice her unfounded assumptions. "It was simply obvious to me," she trilled, her voice dripping with false confidence, "that Potter would attend that ICW-funded school in Switzerland, what with Dumbledore being the Supreme Mugwump and all." A ludicrous notion, of course. Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, could hardly be expected to abandon his post for World Magic Academy, no matter his lofty ICW title. But logic, it seems, has never been Lady Augusta's strong suit.

And finally, I sought the perspective of Lord Rhoe Galathynius, a respected member of a very very old family. "While it's naturally disappointing that Mr. Potter wasn't present," he said with a thoughtful frown, "I can certainly understand the decision. There are other institutions that might have proven more appealing. In fact, I did consider Castelobruxo for my own daughter, Aelin, when she was eleven. They have some extraordinary courses that Hogwarts doesn't, and do have some interesting teachers".

So, there you have it, dear readers. The mystery remains. Where is Harry Potter? Why has he shunned the most prestigious magical school in the world? Is he being groomed for greatness elsewhere? Or is there something more sinister at play? Only time (and, of course, your dedicated correspondent) will tell!”

Percy and Dean were laughing while Jason looked scandalized. Daphne rolled her eyes as Blaise handed the newspaper over to Harry. 

“Who is Rita Skeeter?” asked Harry as he poured over the article. Zatara sighed ” Ms.Skeeter is a journalist, who enjoys writing sensational pieces that rarely rely on truth.”

“I’ll say! I’ve never even heard of Hogwarts. How can I have decided not to attend?” 

Zatara shook his head, “I wouldn’t put too much stock into her article. But, anyway this is the reason I was surprised to see you were here in America. Now, let us move on to discussing your training. I will test you all in the core disciplines of magic, as well as discover where your specialties lie. Do any of you have an idea what you may specialize in?”

Daphne lifted a hand, “Well, Jason and Percy both have elemental abilities, between air, earth and water. And Percy can make illusions.” 

“Hmmmm, interesting. And what of you Miss Greengrass?”

“I’m really good at enchanting and transforming things.” Daphne twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger. 

“I can phase through solid objects, you know, thanks to HYDRA’s experiments. I’m really strong too.” Dean said as he gave a small stretch.

“Also, interesting. We’ll have to see how you do with wizarding magic,” Zatara said as he scratched his chin, “What about you, Mr. Zabini?” 

“My mother has been teaching me our family magic, and I’ve been incorporating my umbrakinesis into my magic.”

“Remarkable. I don’t know that I’ve heard of any combinations of abilities and magic like this. I look forward to seeing you in action.” Zatara’s eyes glowed with anticipation as he turned to Harry.

“I’m good with runes, defensive and offensive magic. Wanda was sent to the Scotland compound to train me and Daphne specifically. But, I’m not good at mind magic like she is.”

“Fascinating. I look forward to seeing you all again in three days' time. We'll meet in the simulation room and I’ll put you through your paces.”

Mount Justice 

Happy Harbor

June 27th

Percy had been the first to enter the simulation room. When he came out, he looked exhausted and smelled like smoke. "Man, that stage magician costume is definitely misleading," he said. "He completely destroyed me."

And Zatara preceded to do the same to the rest of them.

The group and Zatara, looking tired but energized, later gathered in the lounge and dining area. They sprawled across the armchairs and sofas, sipping water. Zatara, with an impressed expression, sat in a conjured chair at the head of the circle. “Alright, everyone. Let's debrief. These sparring sessions were designed to test your abilities, your adaptability, and your strategic thinking. And I must say, I was impressed by what I saw. Each of you demonstrated unique strengths, but also areas for improvement,” Zatara says looking around the room at each of them. 

He hones his gaze on Percy, sitting in one of the armchairs to his left, munching on a protein bar with a blue drink of some kind. “Mr. Jackson, your swordsmanship is formidable, a gift worthy of the Earthshaker himself, I can tell. And your hydrokinesis is exceptionally powerful. You showed good initiative with the whirlpool against the animated statue I summoned. However, you relied too heavily on direct attacks. Remember, magic often requires misdirection and subtlety. Keep that in mind when you tap into your illusion magic. My spells vaporized your water attacks easily, and the summoning charm, followed by a simple lightning spell, ended the match. Think about how you can combine your powers in less predictable ways.” Percy nodded with a thoughtful expression on his face.. 

Daphne perked up when Zatara’s gaze landed on her. “Miss Greengrass, your golem creation and enchantments are truly remarkable. You showed great skill in imbuing them with resistance to my spells. However, you fell victim to a classic magical principle: control is paramount. You allowed your focus to be divided, and I was able to exploit that, turning your own creation against you. Always be aware of your surroundings, and maintain absolute control over your constructs.” 

"Thank you, Mr. Zatara," Daphne said with a respectful nod.

Zatara turned his attention to Harry, who sat at the end of the sofa, next to Percy’s armchair. He was always struck by the resemblance between Harry and Percy. At first glance, they could be mistaken for twins, but closer inspection revealed subtle differences. Percy's eyes were a shade lighter, reminiscent of the Mediterranean Sea, while Harry's were a vivid emerald green. Both had messy black hair, though Harry's was notably longer. Percy was also an inch taller and had broader shoulders.

"Mr. Potter," Zatara began, "you possess impressive raw power. Shattering my shield was a feat few could accomplish. However, raw power alone is not enough. Your potential is immense, but untamed. We need to explore your limits safely and methodically. Until we understand the full extent of your chaos magic, caution is advised. In my experience, only Klarion wields chaos magic. Like him, you seem to have no drawbacks, limited only by your imagination. However, unlike Klarion, you are not a Lord of Chaos and don't require a familiar to anchor you to this plane." Harry contemplated Zatara's words, looking down at his hands.

Zatara's gaze shifted towards Dean, who was seated between Jason and the other end of the sofa, opposite Harry. “Now, Mr. Thomas, your physical abilities are exceptional, as is your phasing. However, you initially approached the magical barrier with a purely physical mindset. You learned, though, and adapted, using a clever combination of phasing and striking to disrupt the barrier's integrity. The lumos solem showed initiative but was a bit too telegraphed. When the light returned to normal I instantly suspected that you were seeking to distract me. My anticipating your phasing through the floor and creating duplicates was a simple counter, but effective. Remember, always anticipate your opponent's countermeasures.”

Zatara took a sip of water before turning to Jason, who was between Daphne and Dean . “Mr. Grace, your strategy was ambitious and nearly successful. Your use of flight and lightning was a good distraction, but your true intent – the subtle manipulation of the air – was the real threat. It was a cunning plan, and it showed a deep understanding of your powers. However, you underestimated my awareness and my ability to counter with both sensory-blocking and offensive magic. Always remember that even the most subtle magic leaves traces.”

Finally, he addressed Blaise who, as usual, sits next to Harry. “Mr. Zabini, your umbrakinesis is truly formidable. Your shadow tendrils and clones were impressive, and using my own shadow against me was… inspired. However, you became overly reliant on that single tactic. When I countered with the white flames, you were left vulnerable. Your final attack, the shadow cocoon, was powerful, but easily dispelled by directed, focused light magic. Remember that every power has a weakness. A skilled opponent will exploit that weakness. You showed great potential, but you need to diversify your tactics and anticipate counters. It pained you to yield, which tells me, you are a true fighter. I look forward to seeing you combine your abilities with magic as you mentioned before.” Blaise thanked Zatara for the advice, then watched as Zatara stood and bid them farewell with a reminder to be ready to work on team matches in a few days, before he apparated away. Blaise let out a breath, and slumped into his seat, then summoned a book out of a nearby shadow.

Daphne, her blonde hair now neatly coiled atop her head, muttered under her breath, "Well, that went well."

"Ugh, at least Zatara didn't use you as a lightning rod," Percy complained, rubbing his chest.

Dean grinned at Daphne, "We could always arrange a little electrifying experience for you, Daphne. Jason here is practically a conduit." 

Jason's eyes widened in alarm, his gaze darting nervously towards Daphne. "Uh, no thanks. I'm still recovering from the last 'prank' you guys roped me into. Daphne's right hook could rival a cyclops's hammer." Daphne merely offered a sharp, knowing smile in response, while Harry and Blaise erupted in laughter.

Dean dismissed Jason's concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, come on, Grace. Where's your sense of adventure? A little danger is the spark of life!"

Jason replied flatly, "Lightning jokes? Seriously?"

“Shocking,” Daphne said dryly. Jason rolled his eyes. Harry stood and stretched, “This has been fun, but I’m going to go to bed. I’ve had enough being tossed around today and we all could use some sleep . Besides, you two,” Harry pointed to Percy and Jason, “have training with Diana tomorrow.”

“Ughhhh,” groaned Percy as Dean and Daphne chuckled. It was well known that Wonder Woman did not pull her punches with the two younger demigods.

Chapter Text

Mount Justice

Lounge Area

July 1st 

The roar of the Star City Comet Coaster echoed in the ears of Mount Justice’s occupants, along with the symphony of screams and laughter from earlier in the day at the amusement park. Jason Grace wore a rare ear splitting smile across his usually stoic face as he clutched a ridiculously large, plush dinosaur, the prize of a hard-won ring toss victory. It was his birthday, and Sally, with the help of Dinah Lance, and Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, had orchestrated a day of pure, unadulterated teenage chaos. Finding Sally Jackson had been another of those first steps Superman had mentioned, though they didn’t know her name at the time. 

During his investigation, Batman discovered a missing persons report from twelve years ago in New York City, for Percy Jackson, The report included a grainy photo of him at four years old. The circumstances surrounding his disappearance were troubling, listing the four-year-old as a runaway. 

The Dark Knight explained that Gabe Ugliano, Sally's then-husband, reported Percy missing after he didn't find him at daycare. Sally, who normally would have been the one to pick up Percy, was working overtime that evening. The daycare owner, Mrs. Henrietta Read, told the officers that Gabe had picked Percy up an hour earlier than Sally's usual time. Gabe claimed he was at a barbershop during that time and had witnesses to support his alibi. The investigation went cold after two years.

Wonder Woman compared the report to HYDRA's files, which told a different story. According to HYDRA, a now deceased agent, posing as Gabe, took Percy and the child was eventually smuggled to Scotland. Batman and Wonder Woman concluded Gabe Ugliano was either complicit or a pawn in Percy's disappearance. Batman visited Gabe and realized the man had no memory of filing the report. He would not be a reliable source of information.

Batman initiated contact with F.B.I. agent Saffron Bell, Commissioner Gordon, and Ms. Jackson to arrange a meeting at the League's U.N. auxiliary office. During the meeting, Batman informed Sally Jackson that the Justice League had located her son. Sally was overcome with emotion and pleaded to see Percy. Batman explained that Percy was found with other teenagers who were under the League's protection. Sally offered to take care of all the teenagers, demonstrating her maternal instincts. Batman then suggested that Sally could be a "den mother" at Mount Justice, recognizing her nurturing skills. Sally agreed but expressed that needed to divorce Gabe. Batman assured her the divorce would be handled.  A few days later, Sally was told that an anonymous donor covered the funds for the divorce proceedings, and that Gordon was able to have the process expedited with the help of a judge.

Since May, Sally had been living in Mount Justice with the teens. She taught them how to cook, though Percy and Daphne were tied for who set off the smoke alarms the most. Sally also served as a sort of therapist for the teens. Having previous experience with teenagers as a tutor. Sally knew that they’d need someone to talk to, but also want space and was familiar with the mood swings of teenagers. She let them know her door was always open and that she’d never judge them for their secrets or thoughts.

Sally had noticed the tension growing amongst the teens. The constant training, the anxiety of receiving information on their families, along with the desire to put an end to HYDRA, was taking a toll on them. They needed a break, a chance to let down their hair, so to speak. Seeing an opportunity to get them out of the mountain, Sally had spoken with Dinah who had brought the request to the next league meeting. Batman had agreed and asked Oliver to work with Sally and Dinah on taking the group out for Jason’s birthday.

At the park, Percy had made sure the others got soaked on the water rides, laughter echoing across the park at the disgruntled looks his friends gave him. Daphne was undefeated at Dance Dance Revolution, while Dean scored the most points in the basketball arcade. Blaise spent most of the time taking pictures, a good number of them of Harry, smiling, eating or laughing. Meanwhile, Jason put them all to shame at ring toss. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy, the lights, shouts and screams of excitement and the games and unbridled fun of it, was a welcome reprieve. 

When the sun started to set, the group decided to head back to Mount Justice and were met by Baman, Wonder Woman and Aquaman. “Jason,” Aquaman rumbled with a smile, “Happy Birthday, son.” Batman nodded in agreement as Wonder Woman also greeted Jason.

“Jason, Sally, might I have a word?”

“Is something wrong?” asked Jason, with concern in his voice. Dean took the large plush from Jason and stood the dinosaur up behind the sofa.

“No, there’s just been some developments in regards to your mother,” Wonder Woman said, “I thought you might want to hear it tomorrow. I’d hate to bring you such news on your birthday. But I did promise to keep you updated.”

Jason swallowed, “I can handle it today. My friends have had my back, and I’ve had theirs. I want them here for this.” Diana nodded and gestured for the teens to take seats. Batman pulled up the holographic display and files began to appear. 

“As you know, we recovered files from the HYDRA base for each of you. Batman has been working to verify the accuracy of these files.” Diana pointed to the documents. The file labeled ‘Subject: Voltage’ opened, displaying several pages with portions of text highlighted. 

“Jason, your mother, Beryl Grace, died shortly after you disappeared from your home in Pasadena at three years old. HYDRA's files don't say how you were taken. They only mention that you were found near one of their facilities near Los Angeles. An agent saw you fight and defeat a large snake. Their LA base took you in and eventually shipped you overseas to Scotland. They were going to move you to Germany, but the formations of the Avengers team, particularly Captain America being recovered from the ice, disrupted their plans. They feared Captain America would eventually investigate, especially once it came to light that his friend James Barnes, the Winter Soldier had been experimented on, mind wiped and mind controlled by them. So they abandoned many of their eastern Europe facilities, with a few exceptions. Unfortunately, we still don't know what happened to your sister Thalia, after she disappeared a week after you. Neighbors informed the police of several arguments happening between your mother and sister before she disappeared."

Daphne, rubbing a hand across Jason’s back, turned to look at Wonder Woman as she asked, “So what happens from here?”

Wonder Woman cleared her throat, “I have been granted guardianship of you, Jason, with Jupiter's blessing."

Jason stared at her, stunned. "Jupiter…?"

"Yes. He… he wouldn't allow Sally to have guardianship. The reason being that he refuses to have his son raised by his brother’s mistress. His words, not mine.” Diana winced and gave Sally an apologetic look. Percy scowled as he looked up to the ceiling as if he could see all the way to Olympus. Sally waved the comment off as she wrapped a hand around the hand Percy had started to raise with his middle finger extended. 

“The League has begun reaching out to law enforcement agencies for any information they may have on Thalia Grace. If we hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.” Batman said, closing Jason’s digital file and moving on to Daphne’s. 

"Daphne Greengrass," Batman began, his voice flat, but the information he revealed was anything but. "HYDRA's records detail a… tragic situation. Your mother, Ellenor, died during childbirth."

Daphne nodded, she had always known her mother had died, but the way Batman spoke made her feel a chill.

"When you were two," Batman continued, "your father, Cyrus Greengrass, remarried a woman named Aliza Rosier. She gave birth to a daughter, Astoria, the same year."

A flicker of something crossed Daphne's face.  She didn’t remember much of her younger years, but she did recall a younger sister, a feeling of being pushed aside by her stepmother.

"Aliza Rosier harbored resentment towards you, Daphne," Batman said, his voice hardening. " Not sure how HYDRA knew this but, your father refused to name Astoria as the heiress to the Greengrass title, fortune, estate, and businesses. Driven by bitterness, Aliza orchestrated your abduction. She handed you over to a wizarding child trafficker."

Dean sucked in a huge breath, while Jason paled. Sally covered her mouth as she moved to sit next to Daphne who sat ramrod straight, eyes distant. 

"To ensure her scheme remained hidden," Batman continued, "Aliza placed Cyrus under a powerful spell, we're not sure what the spell does and HYDRA's files don't give any indication either. The file does emphasize that the trafficker confirmed that an anti-tracking spell or enchantment of some kind was placed on you, so that you could never be traced by your father, should he ever break from the spell."

Daphne's eyes filled with tears, a mix of grief for her father and anger at that woman, her stepmother, swirling within her. "She… she erased me?"

"The file has no further information," Batman said. Wonder Woman spoke up, “We have passed this information on to Zatara, he has pull with the American magical government and is looking into what options are available to him and will meet with you before he takes any action.”

“I just can’t believe someone would do that to a child,” Sally whispered. 

“I can,” Harry said with quiet venom in his voice, as he looked at the file with his name on it. “My aunt and uncle hated me just for breathing. Told me my father was a drunk and mum was a whore. That was before I even showed any signs of magic. They treated me as if I was such a burden to take care of, even though they were getting paid to take me in.”

"There exist despicable people in all societies, unfortunately," Aquaman said, his voice filled with a quiet strength. "They will face justice."

Green Arrow, his expression unusually serious, placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "We're here for you. All of you. You're not alone in this." Harry locked eyes with the archer for several long moments then nodded his head.

“Zatara is also going to see what can be done about pressing charges against the Dursleys as well. First we need to follow the money. From what we’ve tracked it down to, there are three major banks in the U.K. that were paying money out monthly to the Dursleys. Our attempts to find the account owner have gone nowhere. Zatara suspects that a magical source may be involved, since we haven't been able to follow the trail past the three banks.” Batman said, waving his hand to dismiss the holograms. 

“How would that work?” asked Sally, “If these mortals-,”

“Mundanes or No-majs.” Jason corrected.

“-Mundanes, are prosecuted for crimes against magicals, wouldn’t that draw attention, if they end up in a magical prison? Wouldn’t their friends or family who want to visit them wonder why they couldn’t? Also I thought the Wizarding World’s priority was separation from the mundane world? This seems like a lot of coordination. ” 

 “We’re not sure,” Diana answered, “Zatara has suggested that there is a way for them to be prosecuted but he didn’t give any specifics. You’re right though, it is strange that the working relationships between financial and legal services seem to be seamless. They have to have perfected, prosecuting normal people over time for financial fraud is something the mundane institutions would be well versed in. This will be another avenue for us to explore.”

 “As for you Mr. Thomas,” Aquaman said, “HYDRA’s files admit that they kidnapped you from a beach in Brighton. There was a case of accidental magic which drew the attention of HYDRA.”

"They're everywhere," Sally murmured, a shiver running down her spine.

"HYDRA's roots are deep," Wonder Woman confirmed. "They've infiltrated countless organizations, governments and countries over the years."

"The Avengers initially held primary jurisdiction over HYDRA-related cases," Batman explained. "The Justice League deferred, given their personal involvement. However, post-Ultron and the Sokovia Accords, the U.N. has shifted its stance. Our mission in Scotland was a direct U.N. directive."

"So, the U.N. no longer trusts the Avengers to handle HYDRA," Jason said, "And they're involving the Justice League?"

Aquaman confirmed, his expression grave. "Our intel has revealed that the Avengers have infiltrated secure networks of the U.N. and attempted to intercept communications between the U.N. and the League, but, as of now, only alerts pertaining to HYDRA."

 "The U.N.'s confidence has waned," Batman added, his voice clipped, "creating significant tension. The Avengers are increasingly attempting to undermine us in meetings, prioritizing their, former, popularity over protocol. The League, however, operates under a U.N. charter, bound by law and accountability. We've consistently avoided unnecessary destruction, and when accidents occur, we take full responsibility and rectify the situation. The Avengers do not. Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, are particularly vocal in their dissent. Conveniently ignoring how recent actions have affected public perception of them."

A palpable wave of anger and disgust rippled through Harry, Blaise, Dean, Daphne, Percy, and Jason at the mention of Wanda. Black Canary, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, raised an eyebrow. "You all clearly have strong feelings about Wanda. Could one of you explain the depth of this animosity?"

Daphne's voice was tight as she spoke, "Wanda was exposed to a magical stone. No one at HYDRA knew exactly what exposing her to it would do. But when powers started to emerge, the powers that be in HYDRA began seeking to replicate it. They escalated their experiments on other children, including Harry and myself. Wanda heard the HYDRA scientists marvel at our recovery after exposure to the stone. It took her nearly six months to manifest and recover. But for us, our recovery took under six weeks . Wanda became increasingly jealous and hostile towards the other children, but more so Harry and I, because we possessed natural magical abilities and were immune to her manipulative tactics. She is a hateful person, consumed by anger at the world for circumstances often beyond anyone's control. She has traumatized a girl we knew named Anastasia who, last we knew, is afraid of Starbucks cups.”

Green Arrow snorted before he regained his composure, but not before getting an elbow in the side from Black Canary and glares from Daphne and Batman. “I’m sorry, please go on,” the emerald archer said as he rubbed at his side. 

 Daphne rolled her eyes before looking back to Canary, “There was a young boy, Franklin. In another life he could have been my little brother. But Wanda has a huge need to be liked and Franklin, preferring me over her, drove her up the wall. Franklin didn’t deserve what she did to him. She warped his mind and made him dependent on her. He ignored me and she reveled in it. One day, in her misplaced anger, she fried his mind. The scientists were only annoyed with Wanda, but me… I was furious. I am furious. We had a shouting match that led to us coming to blows. It was only because her brother got between us, that she walked away before our fight became deadly. Pietro later apologized for his sister's unforgivable actions and he meant everything he said. It is only because of him that I did not escalate. But make no mistake, I will never willingly look at her in a favorable light. I hate her."

Chapter Text

Mount Justice 

July 8th, 08:20

"Recognized: Batman, 02; Robin, B-01; Aquaman, 09; Aqualad, B-02; Flash, 04; Kid Flash, B-03; Martian Manhunter, 07; Miss Martian, B-05; Superboy, B-04." 

The cool, robotic voice of the Zeta Tube announcer echoed through the vast main cavern of Mount Justice. Seconds later, four Justice League mentors materialized on the platform, followed immediately by their five teenage proteges: Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash, Superboy, and Miss Martian.

"Welcome to Mount Justice," Batman's gravelly voice cut through the quiet awe. "This will serve as your team's base of operations and training facility."

As Batman spoke, a distinct red light above a reinforced door down the hall caught Robin’s eye. Before he could comment, the light flickered off, and the door hissed open. Giovanni Zatara stepped out, looking pleased but tired, followed closely by three unfamiliar teenagers – Dean, Harry, and Blaise – all flushed from exertion and clutching water bottles.

"Ah, perfect timing," Zatara greeted Batman and the other Leaguers with a smile, then nodded towards the newly arrived proteges. "Just finished running Dean, Harry, and Blaise through their paces. Quite the workout." Batman offered a curt nod in return.

"Batman," Aqualad spoke formally, his gaze moving from the unfamiliar teens back to the Dark Knight, his brow slightly furrowed. "We were not informed the Cave would have other occupants." Robin subtly shifted his stance beside Aqualad, his attention fixed on the newcomers. Superboy crossed his arms, silent but visibly tense.

Kid Flash, however, zipped forward, curiosity overriding caution. "Intense session?" He sniffed the air playfully around the trio. "Smells like ozone? And kinda like burnt toast?"

"Kid," Flash's voice cut in sharply from beside Aquaman. "Manners."

Wally skidded to a halt, making a sheepish noise. "Right, sorry. Got curious." He zipped back towards his friends, offering a slightly embarrassed grin.

"Batman, I thought you said the five of us," Robin said, his eyes narrowed with a hint of suspicion as he gestured between himself and his teammates. Superboy and Aqualad exchanged assessing glances, before returning their gazes lingering on the three unfamiliar teenagers.

Batman stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention from both groups. "Team, while you settle in, be advised: Mount Justice currently houses other League guests. Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Jason Grace, and Perseus Jackson, along with Ms. Sally Jackson, have been residing here under League protection and receiving specialized training while connections to their families are established." He gestured briefly towards Zatara and the three teens who had just exited the simulation room. "They have full access to the Cave and its facilities and follow their own training schedules under League supervision. You are not to interfere with their training or activities. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Batman," the five proteges chorused, their earlier excitement now tempered with surprise and curiosity.

With a final, unreadable look cast over both groups of teenagers, Batman turned. "The Cave is yours. Familiarize yourselves with it. We will be in touch regarding your first official assignment." 

Without another word Batman, Aquaman, Flash, and Martian Manhunter stepped back onto the Zeta platform. 

"Recognized: Batman, 02; Aquaman, 09; Flash, 04; Martian Manhunter, 07."  

The cool robotic voice announced their departure as they vanished in flashes of light, leaving the two groups of teenagers alone together in the vast cavern.

A beat of slightly awkward silence hung in the air. Robin broke it, stepping forward with a friendly grin replacing his earlier suspicion. "Hi, I'm Robin. Batman's partner. That's Aqualad, Kid Flash, Superboy, and Miss Martian."

"Nice to meet you," Dean replied, offering a handshake first to Robin, then the others. "I'm Dean Thomas. These are my friends, Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter." Aqualad, Miss Martian, and a now less sheepish Kid Flash returned the handshake readily. Superboy merely grunted, turning abruptly and stalking off towards the private quarters.

"Don't mind SB," Robin said quickly, noticing Harry's gaze following the clone. "He's warming up to people. Slowly."

"Right," Blaise nodded smoothly. "Well, it was good meeting you all. If you'll excuse us, we desperately need showers." The lingering scent of ozone and exertion underscored his point.

Later, showered and changed into comfortable clothes, Harry, Dean, and Blaise found the 'Team' settling into the spacious lounge area. The large television screen dominated one wall, currently showing Superman giving a press statement after stopping a Metropolis bank robbery. Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash, and Miss Martian were scattered across the sofas, chatting amongst themselves. Superboy sat rigidly apart, arms crossed, glaring at Superman on the screen.

Aqualad noticed their arrival and gestured towards the empty seats. "Join us?"

Blaise accepted, sinking onto the sofa near the Atlantean. "Hello again." 

"Please, call me Kaldur'ahm," the blonde haired atlantean offered with a warm, polite smile. 

"Very well, call me Blaise."

Kaldur'ahm glanced towards the kitchen where Harry and Megan were now animatedly talking while adding dashes of blue to cookie dough, then towards the energetic air hockey match between Dean and Wally, punctuated by Robin's commentary. He turned back to Blaise, his expression thoughtful and polite. "It is good to meet you all properly. Forgive my directness, but Batman mentioned you and your friends have been residing here for some time and receiving specialized training. May I inquire about the circumstances that brought you under the League's protection?"

Blaise met Kaldur'ahm's gaze steadily. He considered for a moment, then nodded slightly. "It’s a rather complex situation," he began, his voice calm and measured. "It started several months ago. Do you recall the joint operation the League undertook with the Avengers? The one targeting a major HYDRA facility in Scotland?"

Kaldur'ahm's brow furrowed slightly in concentration before he nodded. "Yes, I remember the briefing. King Orin was called away to an emergency meeting on the Watchtower regarding it, though he was not directly involved in the field engagement."

Cheers erupted from the air hockey table as the holographic score flashed 5-2 in Dean's favor. Wally groaned dramatically. Blaise allowed a small, fleeting smile before continuing, his tone becoming slightly more somber as he turned fully back to Kaldur'ahm.

"Well, my friends and I," he indicated Harry and Dean with a subtle gesture, "were among those rescued during that operation. HYDRA had acquired us years ago, under… various circumstances. The League has been assisting us since, helping locate any remaining family, investigating how we ended up in HYDRA's hands, and providing training to help us control powers and abilities we possess."

Sympathy flickered in Kaldur'ahm's eyes. "I am sorry for what you endured. HYDRA is known for its cruelty."

"No apologies needed," Blaise replied, his tone pleasant but firm. "It's behind us. And while some HYDRA elements evade capture, loose ends tend to get tied up eventually." He shrugged, but Kaldur'ahm sensed a definite edge beneath the calm exterior.

Before Kaldur'ahm could inquire further, the Cave's AI interrupted. 

“Recognized: Daphne, A-01. Jason, A-04. Percy, A-06. Sally, A-07.”

“We’re back!” Percy’s cheerful voice preceded him as he entered the lounge, arms laden with shopping bags. Jason followed, equally burdened. Behind them walked a strikingly beautiful blonde girl, Daphne, and a woman with warm eyes and streaks of grey in her brown hair, Sally, both trying to stifle giggles.

“Are they having another contest?” Blaise asked, amused, as the newcomers approached. “Naturally,” Sally replied with a fond smile, shaking her head. “Who can carry the most bags from the car in one go.” She looked around. "Oh, hello! You must be the new team members Batman mentioned."

Daphne sank gracefully into a vacant armchair. With a subtle, almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, her fashionable shoes vanished, replaced instantly by soft slippers that seemed to materialize on her feet. Kaldur'ahm noted the casual display of magic.

“Everyone, this is Kaldur’ahm, Aquaman’s protege,” Blaise made the introductions. “Kaldur’ahm, this is Daphne Greengrass and Ms. Sally Jackson. Percy’s mother.” He indicated the two boys who were now heading towards the kitchen, presumably to deposit the groceries. “And the pack mules are Jason Grace and Percy Jackson.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Kaldur’ahm,” Sally said warmly, shaking his webbed hand before following the boys. Daphne offered the Atlantean a polite, cool nod. Her composed demeanor faltered slightly as Kid Flash suddenly zipped onto the arm of her chair, leaning in with a hopeful grin.

“Kid Flash, at your service! But you can call me Wally,” the speedster said enthusiastically. “And who might you be, pretty lady?”

Daphne raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, giving him a brief, appraising glance. “Daphne. A pleasure.” Her tone was civil but held no warmth. Wally sighed dramatically anyway. “A beautiful name for–” 

“Wally,” Kaldur’ahm interjected quietly but firmly, shaking his head slightly at his teammate’s unsubtle approach. Wally pouted but zipped back to the hockey table.

Percy and Jason returned from the kitchen, Jason taking the spot next to Kaldur’ahm while Percy sprawled on the floor nearby. “Kaldur’ahm,” Jason greeted, extending a hand. “Jason Grace.” Kaldur’ahm shook it. “Well met, Jason.”

Hearing the name, Percy looked up from inspecting a cookie crumb someone had dropped. “Kaldur’ahm? Right, Aquaman’s protege. Orin’s mentioned you.”

Kaldur’ahm blinked, straightening slightly. The casual use of the King’s given name was unexpected. “ King Orin has spoken of me?”

Percy shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows. “Yeah, sometimes. During training sessions and stuff. Said you’re his pick to take over the Aquaman mantle someday.”

Kaldur'ahm’s polite smile tightened fractionally. A flicker of surprise and perhaps something more complex, a hint of unease crossed his features. He hadn’t been aware Aquaman was personally training another protege, let alone one who referred to the King of Atlantis with such startling familiarity.

‘Well now,’ Blaise thought, observing the subtle shift in the Atlantean’s posture and the oblivious ease radiating from Percy. ‘This could get interesting.’

Chapter Text

Martian Bio-Ship

Happy Harbor

July 18th

The mood in the cave was glum. Days had passed since the Team’s Cadmus adventure, and the novelty of having their own headquarters had worn off, replaced by the restlessness of teenage heroes eager for action but receiving none. Seeing the Team – Robin, Kid Flash, Aqualad, Superboy, and Miss Martian – practically vibrating with unused energy after their failed conversation with Red Tornado, Harry nudged Jason. "They look like they're about to climb the walls. Maybe we should get them out of the cave?"

Jason nodded. Harry cleared his throat, catching the Team's attention. "Feeling cooped up? We were thinking of checking out Happy Harbor. Want to come? "

Megan's eyes lit up instantly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Oh! We could take my Bio-Ship!" Eager to contribute and make a good impression, she gestured enthusiastically towards the hangar tunnel. "This way!"

With a few swift commands, Megan woke the sleek, organic ship. Everyone filed into the spacious cockpit, bathed in the beautiful, dreamlike glow of red, indigo, and pastel purple bio-luminescent lights. Settling into the central captain’s seat, Megan announced with dramatic flair, “Strap in for launch.”

“Uh, where exactly?” Kaldur’ahm asked politely, indicating the wide-open space around them, devoid of obvious seating beyond Megan's chair.

Megan tapped her forehead. “Hello, Megan! Bio-Ship, seating please!”

Gasps echoed as the soft, plush purple floor seamlessly morphed, providing more captain's chairs and comfortable bench seats along the bulkheads. Safety straps automatically formed and adjusted to each occupant as they quickly took seats. Moments later, whoops and cheers erupted as the Bio-Ship smoothly flew out of the open hangar bay doors and into the bright afternoon sun.

After a few minutes of quiet conversation and enjoying the view, Robin leaned forward. “So, Megan, Martian shapeshifting. How precise can you get?”

“Pretty precise!” Megan demonstrated, her green skin lightening, hair darkening, clothes shifting until a feminine version of Robin, complete with longer hair, stood before them. She held the pose for a second before shifting again, morphing into Kid Flash’s distinct yellow and red suit. 

“Whoa,” Wally breathed, openly admiring the Miss Martian/Kid Flash form. “Is it wrong that I think I’m hot?”

 Daphne snorted softly, causing Wally to blush. “Impressive mimicry,” Robin agreed, applauding lightly, “but skilled observers would spot the differences, especially with male forms.”

“Mimicking boys is harder,” Megan admitted. Without warning, she shifted again, now bearing a near-perfect resemblance to Daphne.

 “Okay, that is freaky,” Percy blinked, looking between the real Daphne and the duplicate. “If I hadn’t watched you change, I’d be guessing.”

“Tell me about it,” Daphne agreed dryly, eyeing her doppelgänger critically.

“Cool! Can you do that ghosting through walls thing, like Manhunter?” Kid Flash asked eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

Megan’s bright expression dimmed slightly. “Oh, that’s density shifting. It’s a very advanced technique,” She looked down at her hands. “I haven’t mastered it yet.”

“It involves manipulating your molecular density, right?” Dean spoke up thoughtfully. Megan looked up, surprised. “I’ve had some experience with similar phasing concepts. If you like, I could perhaps offer some pointers sometime?” He offered a smile of encouragement.

“Wait, you know Martian techniques?” Wally asked, voice drenched with skepticism. “How?”

Dean just shrugged slightly. "Different paths, similar principles sometimes. No pressure, Megan, but the offer's there if you think it might help."

Megan’s eyes brightened considerably. “Really? That would be amazing! If you’re sure? And only if it won't interrupt your schedule.” Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry, I can find the time. We can compare notes whenever you’re free.”

“He manages,” Harry muttered quietly to Jason, who grinned back. “Between magic with Zatara, combat with Canary, and somehow fitting in soccer practice with the Happy Harbor Soccer Team.”

“Flash can vibrate through walls,” Robin interjected, shooting a sly look at Wally. “But when h e tries it… Bloody nose . ”

“Dude!” Wally cried indignantly as several others chuckled, even Superboy cracking a faint smile.

“Here’s something the ship can do!” Megan quickly changed the subject, pointing out the window. “Camouflage Mode!” Starting at the nose, the exterior of the Bio-Ship rippled and rapidly blended in with the surrounding view of blue sky and fluffy white clouds, becoming invisible from the outside.

“This is incredible,” Percy whispered, staring out at the spot where the wing used to be visible.

The serene and wondrous atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by a sharp chime. Red Tornado’s monotone voice filled the cockpit: “Red Tornado to Miss Martian. An emergency alert has been triggered at the Happy Harbor Power Plant. I suggest you investigate. Proceed covertly. Sending coordinates.”

“Coordinates received. ETA two minutes,” Megan replied crisply, her expression shifting to mission focus as she reverted to her normal green-skinned appearance. The Bio-Ship banked smoothly towards the new destination.

A few minutes later, the camouflaged Bio-Ship hovered silently above the employee parking lot of the Happy Harbor Power Plant. Inside, the teenage proteges exchanged glances. "Think this is another 'test'?" Wally muttered, voicing what they all seemed to be thinking. Peering out at the seemingly ordinary scene below, Megan mused, “I wonder what caused the alert.”

“I think I know!” Superboy shouted, pointing out the window. A swirling grey funnel cloud was descending with unnatural speed, heading straight for them. Before Megan could react, the tornado engulfed the ship, sucking it into its violent vortex. Cries of shock rang out as everyone was tossed and jostled within the spinning chaos. One moment, the world was a blur of grey; the next, the ship bucked violently free, settling with a heavy thump onto the parking lot asphalt beyond the rapidly dissipating funnel.

“And that’s why I prefer solid ground or water beneath my feet,” Percy grumbled, steadying himself against a bulkhead.

“Okay, new plan!” Wally zipped out of his seat, already vibrating with impatience. “Team,” he pointed to Robin, Aqualad, Superboy, and Miss Martian, “we go check the plant, find the source of that twister. You guys,” he gestured to Harry’s group, “fan out, handle civilian evac, keep the area clear. Go!”

Percy opened his mouth, perhaps to suggest a different idea, but Wally was already jumping out the hatch. Robin and Superboy were right behind him. With a sigh, Kaldur followed, exchanging a quick, indecipherable look with Megan before they too dropped through the floor hatch that opened beneath them, sprinting towards the Power Plant building where panicked workers were fleeing.

“That wasn’t a natural wind funnel,” Percy stated grimly, leaping down to the asphalt.

“Agreed,” Jason landed beside him, eyes scanning the sky where another twister was forming unnaturally on the far side of the building. “The atmospheric conditions are all wrong. No storm cell, nothing.”

“Should we try to warn them?” Dean asked, watching the Team disappear around the corner.

“I’ll keep an eye on them from above,” Jason decided. “You guys start spreading out, focus on evacuation and containment. Harry, Daphne, quick disguises? To keep attention off us.”

“On it,” Daphne nodded, her hands glowing golden. She quickly dusted Percy and Dean with shimmering magic, altering their features so that no one could identify them. Harry traced a glowing emerald rune onto Jason’s forehead, Blaise’s, and his own before it faded, leaving their appearances similarly blurred to casual observation.

“Good. How do we stay in contact?” Blaise asked.

“Mind-link,” Daphne suggested, closing her eyes briefly. A moment later, a gentle presence brushed against each of their minds. ‘Link established. Surface thoughts only for comms.’

A beat of silence, then: ‘Man, I really wish I’d brought some cookies.’

Five pairs of eyes turned towards Percy. ‘What?’ he thought defensively.

‘We can hear you!’ came the collective mental chorus. Percy winced, his cheeks flushing. ‘Sorry.’

A loud crash echoed from the Power Plant. “Right, focus! Let’s move!” Dean called, running to help a fallen employee who’d been staggering towards her car.

Daphne and Percy headed south towards the highway and bay, guiding workers away from the escalating danger. Harry and Blaise moved north towards the town outskirts, preventing onlookers and reporters from getting closer, clearing debris, and assisting civilians. 

As Harry carefully levitated a car containing a terrified family back onto the road after it swerved into a ditch, the screams from inside alerted him. He spun around just as a large, uprooted tree flew towards his exposed back. He threw up a hasty shield with one hand, but before it could connect, a large tendril of pure darkness sliced the tree cleanly in half.

‘I’ve got your back,’ came Blaise’s calm, musical mental voice, as the two halves of the tree crashed to the ground and were brushed off the sides of the road by more tendrils. 

‘Thanks, Blaise,’ Harry replied, settling the car safely on the road and waving the family on.

Meanwhile, Jason flew cautiously towards the Power Plant, flying in through a damaged wall. Inside, he saw the Team locked in battle with a large, red android generating the powerful tornadoes. As he watched, the robot blasted Megan and Superboy into opposite walls with focused wind bursts. It then swatted Robin and Kaldur into each other, dropping them in a heap before blasting its way out through another section of wall. At this rate the building would surely fall.

Jason swooped down, helping Robin and Kaldur to their feet. “Found the source of the twisters, I see.”

Kaldur rubbed his head, looking around as the others staggered upright and joined them near the new exit. “Indeed. Though defeating ‘Mr. Twister’ is proving difficult.”

Jason deadpanned. Kaldur raised his hands defensively. “That is what it said to call him!”

“Right. Look, I’m not on the team, but I can try to help mitigate those tornadoes, keep him from tossing you around like rag dolls.” Jason offered. Kaldur assessed Jason for a moment, then nodded curtly in agreement. Just then, Wally yelped outside as he was flung bodily towards the building. Megan, recovering quickly, threw up her hands, catching him telekinetically inches from impact.

“I thought you might have learned your limitations by now,” Mr. Twister’s synthesized voice boomed across the parking lot.

“What do you want?” Superboy bellowed, cracking his knuckles as the android hovered menacingly.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m waiting for a real hero.” Jason inwardly winced, hearing the deliberate provocation in the android’s tone.

“Miss Martian, read his mind! Find a weakness!” Aqualad ordered, observing Twister’s movements.

“But-, I thought you didn’t-” Megan hesitated, glancing nervously at Superboy. His earlier reaction when she entered his mind still weighed heavily on her.

“It’s okay with the bad guys !” Robin exclaimed impatiently.

Megan nodded, focusing on Mr. Twister. Her brow furrowed. “Nothing. He’s inorganic. Wait… Red Tornado is inorganic. An android! And how many tornado generating androids do we know?” Her eyes widened in sudden realization. “Hello Megan! It’s a test! Mr. Twister is Red Tornado!” She smiled, convinced she’d cracked the puzzle.

Jason, however, felt a cold knot of doubt. Red Tornado? Sanctioning this level of destruction? Endangering civilians? It doesn’t track. The Justice League wouldn’t operate this way.

‘Guys!’ Jason sent urgently down the mind-link. ‘The Team thinks Twister is Red Tornado in disguise! They think this is a test by the League!’

Exclamations of shock and disbelief echoed mentally. ‘That makes no sense! The League would never—’ Daphne began. ‘They’re not thinking this through!’ Jason said, watching the Team stride purposefully across the ruined lot towards the android.

“We know who you are!” Robin called out confidently. Aqualad followed up, “And we know what you’re doing! Let’s end this!”

Mr. Twister hovered higher. “Consider it ended!” Jason felt the air pressure plummet, a massive static charge building in the unnaturally dark clouds gathering overhead. The android raised its hands, and two violent funnel clouds descended. Jason instinctively fought for control of the air currents, but Twister’s power was overwhelming; Jason had been reactive, not proactive. Lightning crackled above in the dark clouds ominously.

Jason heard Kid Flash ask nervously if Red Tornado could even do that. He vaguely registered Percy and Daphne’s urgent mental shouts: ‘Jason, hold on! We’re coming!’ But they were too far away.

“You think I’m Red Tornado?” Twister’s voice crackled with synthesized amusement. “How ironic.” A massive bolt of lightning lanced down from the clouds towards the clustered Team. Jason reacted instantly, thrusting out his left hand, pulling the deadly energy towards himself. He braced, taking the bolt into his fingertip. Gritting his teeth against the surge, he channeled it through his body and blasted it out from his right hand, aimed squarely at the android. Twister narrowly dodged by shooting upwards, its robotic eyes fixed on Jason with new intensity.

Jason launched himself towards Twister, but the android intensified the nearest funnel cloud, yanking Jason into its grip. Distracted by Jason’s sudden predicament, the Team failed to react as Twister called down five more lightning bolts. Two slammed into the ground before Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad, the shockwave knocking them unconscious. A third struck Miss Martian, who crumpled. The final two hit Superboy squarely, felling the powerhouse instantly.

Mr. Twister turned its attention back to Jason, ordering the funnel cloud to eject him forcefully out over the choppy waters of the harbor before speeding after him.

Sputtering coughs broke the silence as the Team members regained consciousness, drenched in freezing water. “Wha- happened?” Wally groaned, sitting up. Daphne hovered nearby, while Percy stood over them, pulling the water from their clothes with a gesture.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Daphne said, her tone sharp.

“She tricked us!” Superboy snarled, lunging to his feet and punching a nearby boulder, cracking it down the middle. He glared furiously at Miss Martian. “You made us think Twister was Tornado!”

Megan flinched, looking down, her hair falling to hide her face. “She did not ‘trick’ us, Superboy,” Kaldur said firmly, stepping between them. “She made an assumption based on limited knowledge.”

Robin pushed himself up. “Yeah, it was a rookie mistake. We shouldn’t have listened.”

“ She’s right there with you guys.” Percy said glaring at the guys.

“Hang on,” Daphne landed lightly, helping Megan to her feet. “Don’t you dare pile this all on her. Yes, she made a mistake, but she’s new to this world and its nuances. You three,” she pointed accusingly at Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad, “have worked with the founders of the League, your mentors. You should have recognized that the level of destruction and the endangerment of civilians isn’t the League's style. You walked right into his ‘real hero’ taunt! Megan’s logic, based on her experience, was understandable. Yours wasn’t.”

“Whatever,” Superboy growled, clearly unwilling to concede. He launched himself into the air, heading towards town where sounds of destruction were escalating again. “Just stay out of our way.” Kid Flash and Robin exchanged a look, then took off running after him.

“I’m sorry,” Megan whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I was just trying to be part of the team.”

Aqualad hesitated, then placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “I understand, M’gann. But to be honest,” He looked after his departing teammates, his expression grim. “I am not sure we truly have one yet.” He turned and sprinted after the others, leaving Megan, Daphne, and Percy standing amidst the debris.

“What now?” Megan asked, looking lost. Percy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. You should get back to the Bio-Ship and contact Red Tornado. Fill him in. Daphne, you and I will tail the others. Try to run interference and buy some time.”

Megan nodded, looking slightly more resolute, and floated up towards the camouflaged Bio-Ship. Daphne created a shimmering golden platform that Percy hopped on, and they flew quickly towards Happy Harbor proper.

They arrived to chaos. Jason, clothes torn and singed, was desperately trying to dissipate three raging tornadoes tearing through the town center. Police barricades were up at the eastern and western edges of town, but debris was raining down. Harry zipped back and forth, shielding civilians or moving them in protective bubbles towards the barricades. Dean phased through collapsing storefronts, pulling people out. Blaise used his shadows to instantly transport injured individuals to the safety zones, occasionally flicking out tendrils of darkness to intercept deadly projectiles.

“Drop me near Jason!” Percy yelled over the roar of the wind. 

‘No need to shout, Fish-boy. Mind link remember?,’ Daphne shot back, a hint of smirk in her mental tone. Percy gave her a mental glare as he leaped off the platform, landing beside his cousin. Relief flickered in Jason’s tired eyes.

‘Combine powers?’ Percy suggested, reaching out. Jason grasped his hand firmly, nodding. Together, they faced the oncoming twisters, planting their feet. Sweat beaded on their brows as they poured their will into the churning storm, wrestling control from the unseen manipulator. Suddenly, like overtightened rubber bands snapping, the external control vanished. The three twisters collapsed, dumping their payload of debris as a wave of golden energy from Daphne pulsed outwards, gently lowering the cars, signs, and wreckage to the ground.

‘Harry, Blaise,’ Daphne called, ‘Inform Incident Command Posts that the immediate tornado threat is neutralized, but the source is still active. Maintain the perimeter.’

‘Copy. Message relayed. Heading your way,’ Harry’s energetic thought replied.

A patch of shadow deepened nearby, and Blaise emerged. Moments later, Harry and Dean landed beside them. Blaise immediately checked Harry, then turned a critical eye on Jason and Percy. Percy was fine, but bloody scratches marred Jason’s chest and arms. “I can heal those now,” Blaise offered quietly, “or back at the Cave.”

“It can wait,” Jason decided, wincing slightly. “Let’s see if the others need backup. Where did they go?”

Following the sounds of screeching metal and distant explosions, they headed towards the marina. As they rounded a corner, they saw Red Tornado himself engaging Mr. Twister in aerial combat, as the Team members backed away from the fight.

“Okay, Tornado’s got the main event,” Harry assessed quickly. “Let’s maintain the perimeter, Daphne, Jason, aerial sweep. Percy–”

“There's a boat capsized out there!” a drenched woman shrieked from the pier, frantically yelling at her phone. “People were on it!”

“Percy-,” started Harry.

 “On it!” Percy yelled, already sprinting. He hit the edge of the pier and launched himself onto a wave he summoned, rocketing out into the harbor without a backward glance. Dean and Blaise immediately split off again, resuming rescue and evacuation efforts among the damaged buildings lining the waterfront, while Daphne and Jason circled above, looking for innocent bystanders to help. 

Harry paused, looking at the wreckage of the Happy Harbor Elementary School. Pictures drawn by children were scattered amidst the debris – dreams of being vets, paintings of happy families, drawings of superheroes. A deep sadness settled in him. Taking a steadying breath, Harry raised his hands. With a focused wave of emerald energy, the debris began to lift, swirl, and reassemble. Desks righted themselves, books flew back onto shelves, pencils sorted into cups. Bricks, insulation, wires, pipes – all slotted back into place. Within minutes, the school he faced looked almost untouched, solid and whole once more.

‘Looks like the Team has a plan. They’re engaging Twister near the docks.’ came Daphne’s mental voice.

‘Copy that!’ Percy replied, his mental presence like the powerful, crashing waves. ‘Got the family from the boat, seven people. Cleared their lungs, all conscious, but they’ll still need medical attention.’

‘EMTs from the western evac point are being dispatched to the pier. ETA five,’ Blaise relayed calmly, his thoughts a soothing melody.

A deafening crunch echoed from the direction of the fight. Harry spun around to see Mr. Twister hurtling through the air, thanks to Superboy, crashing into the marina water with a huge splash. Seconds later, a geyser erupted, and the android was propelled out, followed by Aqualad, landing heavily on the pier right in front of Miss Martian. She stretched out her  hands, levitating the damaged machine. With a grunt and a sharp pulling motion, Twister’s arms were ripped from their sockets. Robin darted in, slapping several explosive discs onto weakened areas. He triggered them, and the android collapsed, smoking. Amazingly, the armless torso still managed to push itself to its knees. There was a whirring sound, and then the chest plate opened, revealing a middle aged man in a strange green and white suit collapsing out onto the pier. Still on one of the torso doors, trapped behind a flickering golden energy cage, sat a small bird with pure white feathers, two sets of wings, and an ominous looking collar, screeching in distress.

Daphne flew overhead directing three ambulances towards the pier where Percy was helping the rescued family.

Suddenly, Aqualad cried out, “Megan! NO!”

Harry turned his head sharply, just as Megan dropped a large boulder directly onto the man who had fallen from the android. Shock rippled through Harry as he instinctively moved closer. 

‘Harry? What happened? Are you alright?’ Blaise’s urgent thought cut through the noise. 

‘I’m… okay,’ Harry replied, his mental voice tight. ‘Megan just dropped a boulder on the pilot who was inside the Twister android.’ 

‘Pilot? But she said it was inorganic!’ Daphne said, confusion coloring her thoughts. Harry quickly filled them in on the past few minutes.

Robin’s furious voice snapped Harry back to the present. “Don’t know how you do things on Mars, but on Earth, we DON’T EXECUTE CAPTIVES!”

“You said you trust me.” Megan responded as she levitated the boulder. Beneath it lay not a crushed body, but a mangled heap of wires, hydraulics, artificial skin, and sparking components.

‘It’s an android!’ Harry relayed mentally, circling the wrecked suit. Jason, Dean, and Blaise arrived, flanking him as he focused on the trapped bird. It sat on a perch inside the open torso, the golden dome preventing its escape.

“We should have had more faith in your judgment, M’gann,” Aqualad said quietly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Is that-?” Jason breathed, stepping closer to Harry and the caged bird. Harry nodded grimly. Kneeling, Harry carefully vanished the golden energy dome. The small, white bird hopped out cautiously onto the wreckage. Harry held out a hand, letting the bird see he meant no harm. After the bird stared at him for a long moment, it chirruped. Harry slowly reached up and gently tapped the metallic collar around its neck. There was a soft click and the collar fell away. The bird ruffled its feathers, inspected its neck, then looked at the fallen collar. With a loud chirp, a startlingly powerful blast of lightning shot from one of its wings, frying the discarded collar to slag. The bird then turned to Harry and began rubbing its head insistently against his offered hand.

“A thunderbird,” Jason murmured, letting a small spark dance across his own fingertips. The thunderbird regarded the spark, then bumped its head affectionately against Jason’s palm as well.

“Hey, what have you guys got there?” Robin asked, walking over, curiosity piqued. Jason looked at Harry, who subtly tilted his head towards Mount Justice. The son of Jupiter carefully scooped up the surprisingly calm thunderbird. He turned to face the regrouping Team. “I’ll explain back at the Cave.” Without further elaboration, Jason launched himself into the air, disappearing quickly.

“Okay, what was that about?” Kid Flash asked, tossing one of the eyes of the Twister-android pilot up and catching it.

“Something best discussed in private,” Harry replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Alright, Team,” Aqualad directed, taking charge once more. “Let’s gather the remains of both androids. We need to analyze this.” Megan quickly, but carefully levitated the wreckage into the Bio-Ship’s cargo hold. Soon, everyone was aboard. As Megan settled into the pilot’s seat and directed the ship back towards Mount Justice, the silence in the cockpit was thick with exhaustion, lingering tension and unanswered questions.

Chapter Text

Mount Justice

Conference Room

16:54

The Team filed into the conference room first, buzzing with residual adrenaline from the confrontation with Mr. Twister. Relief mingled with the unspoken acknowledgment of their fractured teamwork and costly mistakes. They took seats around the table, exchanging looks that held both the satisfaction of overcoming the challenge and the quiet resolve to address the serious flaws in their coordination. 

Harry, Blaise, Jason, Dean, Percy, and Daphne followed, taking up their familiar positions along the back wall. They had witnessed the Team's struggles firsthand but understood this debrief was the Team's formal report. This particular hurdle, Harry thought, catching Jason's eye briefly, the friction and misunderstandings, was the Team's to navigate and overcome. They would offer their observations on external events and the Thunderbird when asked, but the internal dynamics were not theirs to report to Red Tornado.

As the Team finished recounting the android's tactics and their hard-won victory, focusing on the successful takedown while glossing over the infighting and errors in judgment. Red Tornado turned his attention from the main group towards the observers at the back, specifically Jason. “And what of this bird that you mentioned was recovered from the torso of the android?”

Jason, having changed his clothes and taken some nectar and ambrosia when he got back ahead of everyone else, carefully opened his tracksuit jacket and lifted out the white bird with golden feathers and two sets of wings. The thunderbird blinked in the light, looked around the room curiously, then chirped before fluttering upwards to settle quite comfortably in Harry’s already unruly hair.

“Hey Harry, now you really have a bird’s nest,” cracked Dean, breaking the sudden focus with an attempt at humor.

“Ha ha,” Harry snarked back, trying not to move his head too suddenly and dislodge his new passenger.

“Interesting,” Red Tornado said, moving closer to observe the creature perched on Harry. “My database contains no record of avian species matching this description, particularly the dual wing structure.”

“That’s because it’s a magical beast,” came the voice of Giovanni Zatara. He entered the conference room, followed closely by Wonder Woman and Aquaman, their expressions serious but calm. Jason gave a slight nod to Diana, silently thanking her for her quick arrival in response to the message he’d sent when he first returned to the cave.

“A thunderbird,” breathed Diana, her eyes widening slightly in recognition and awe as she drew closer. “By the gods. I had thought they were all extinct.”

“You’ve seen one before?” Megan asked, leaning forward, her earlier nervousness momentarily replaced by excitement.

“Yes,” Diana inclined her head, her gaze thoughtful. ”Before the Flame of Western Civilization left Ancient Greece, thunderbirds were majestic Kheres, spirits of the storm. However, when the Greek and Roman pantheons established themselves here, the Kheres had seemingly disappeared. Later, creatures that would come to be known as thunderbirds, appeared and were claimed by my— our father,” she gestured subtly between herself and Jason, acknowledging their shared parentage. “Zeus/Jupiter declared thunderbirds as one of his sacred animals. Sadly, this made them targets for enemies of Olympus, who hunted them relentlessly, though few hunters survived the attempt. Over the centuries, they appeared less and less. We believed their numbers dwindled, driven to extinction. Perhaps… perhaps they merely adapted, learned to hide themselves from gods and mortals alike.”

“I remember, long before that,” Wonder Woman continued, her voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence, “thunderbirds were known as Anemoi Thuellai. Storm spirits, or Venti as the Romans called them. They were said to be sired by the wind gods themselves. Their power and wild beauty made them… desirable, to many of the gods, even some goddesses. You’ve likely heard the stories,” she added, a knowing look in her eyes, “about the often petty and frankly underhanded methods employed by Olympians to seduce or bed mortals, nymphs, even minor gods or goddesses when desire struck.”

“You mean like that time Zeus turned into a horse to get with his sister Demeter?” Wally blurted out, trying to recall his mythology lessons.

Percy scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, actually, that was Poseidon who did the horse thing with Demeter, but yeah, you get the picture.”

“What about Medusa?” Robin chimed in. “Didn’t Poseidon assault her in Athena’s temple, leading Athena to curse her?”

“That version of her is more common on the Roman side of history,” Jason clarified. “The older Greek myths often say she and her sisters were simply born as Gorgons. Just pray you never run into her.”

“What’s a Gorgon?” Megan asked, looking completely lost.

Wally looked between Percy and Jason, shaking his head. “Dudes. No offense, but your family is seriously messed up.”

Zatara quietly interrupted with a polite clearing of his throat. Beside him, Wonder Woman shot a brief, sharp glare at Wally for the casual insult towards the Olympians, though Jason and Percy merely exchanged shrugs, a silent acknowledgment that yeah, things got weird.

“I believe we were getting slightly off-topic,” Zatara prompted gently. “Princess Diana, you were explaining the Thunderbirds’ origins?”

Wonder Woman refocused, nodding to Zatara. “Yes. Seeking protection, and wishing to avoid being constantly pursued by selfish gods and goddesses, the ancient Anemoi Thuellai sought out Hecate, the Titaness of Magic & Crossroads and a few other domains. They begged her for help. No one knows the exact ritual or spell she performed, but the Venti soon vanished from divine notice, and the creatures we now know as Thunderbirds appeared, more beast than spirit, capable of hiding in plain sight.”

“Amazing,” Zatara murmured, looking from the bird on the table to Diana. “I knew there were overlaps, but I never dreamed the worlds of myth and magic were quite so deeply entwined.”

It was in the ensuing quiet moment, as the group absorbed this revelation, that Wally glanced over at his friend. “What’s up with Kaldur?” he asked.

Kaldur’ahm had sunk slowly to his knees, his gaze shifting intensely between Diana and Aquaman, then to Jason, and finally locking onto Percy with a profound, dawning look of realization. Aquaman moved swiftly to his protege’s side, kneeling before him, a frown of concern creasing his brow. “Kaldur’ahm? Son, are you alright?”

Kaldur lowered his head, not meeting his King’s eyes. “Forgive me, my King,” his voice was thick with emotion. “I confess I questioned your judgment in training Percy. I felt-, jealous of the closeness you share, thinking that you sought to replace me. That perhaps I had been found lacking in your eyes.” He looked at Percy, then back to Aquaman. "But hearing Princess Diana and now understanding Jason and Percy’s heritage… now I see. It was not favouritism. But duty. You train the son of Lord Poseidon."

“Kaldur, let us take a walk.” Aquaman’s voice was gentle but firm. He held out a hand for Aqualad to grasp and get to his feet. Without looking at anyone else in the room, Kaldur’ahm trudged silently after the King of Atlantis, disappearing through the doorway.

Silence, thick and heavy, descended upon the conference room in their wake. The remaining members of the Team shifted uncomfortably, the earlier flush of victory replaced by confusion and concern. Wally stared at the door Kaldur had disappeared through, not understanding the depth of his friend's turmoil. Megan looked sympathetic towards Kaldur, while Superboy remained impassive, though his posture seemed slightly less rigid. 

The little thunderbird, seemingly sensing the shift in mood, chirped softly and glided from its perch in Harry’s hair, landing gently in the center of the large conference table. It ruffled its dual sets of white and gold wings, tilting its head as it looked between the assembled people. The small action broke the tension. Wonder Woman let out a soft chuckle, the sound a warm welcome in the quiet room.

"Well," she said, moving closer to the table, her eyes alight with fascination as she examined the bird. "You certainly know how to make an entrance, little one."

Giovanni Zatara, seizing the opportunity to redirect the focus, reached into an inner pocket of his coat and produced a well-worn, leather-bound book. Embossed in elegant gold script on the cover were the words: Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them . "Perhaps some context is in order," he offered, flipping through the pages with practiced ease before laying the book open on the table.

He turned it so the others could see. The page displayed a beautifully detailed, moving illustration of a magnificent, six-winged thunderbird soaring through a stormy sky, lightning crackling around its golden feathers. Below the image was dense text detailing the creature's habits and abilities. Wally blinked at the moving picture, Megan leaned forward with clear fascination, while Robin's analytical mind seemed to file away 'magizoologist' and 'Hogwarts' for later investigation.

"This was compiled by Newt Scamander, a renowned magizoologist and alumnus of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry," Zatara explained. 

"Hogwarts is a magical school in Britain," Daphne supplied quietly, seeing the questioning looks from the Team.

"You mean a school where people use advanced technology to imitate magic?" Wally whispered, only half-joking. Robin elbowed him sharply and muttered, "Not now!" 

Zatara continued smoothly, "Scamander dedicated his life to studying magical creatures, advocating for their protection, and documenting their wonders. His work is considered the standard text." He tapped the open page. "Thunderbirds," Zatara read, "are powerful magical avians native to North America, related to the Phoenix. They possess an innate connection to the elements and are capable of generating localized storms. They sense atmospheric disturbances and danger." He looked significantly at the small bird now curiously pecking at a smudge on the table. "Their feathers often start white, darkening or gaining color – gold, silver, electric blue, grey, black – as they mature and their power grows."

“Wait a minute,” Wally interjected, leaning forward, skepticism etched on his face. “Are you seriously saying that little bird,” he pointed emphatically, “created those tornadoes that nearly tore apart Happy Harbor?”

Robin frowned thoughtfully, stepping closer to the table. “Zatara, Wally has a point, respectfully. Jason and Percy both said the power behind those storms felt immense, far beyond what seemed natural. While we knew it wasn't normal weather, attributing it solely to well," he gestured to the bird, "seems like a stretch, even for magic."

Diana nodded, placing a hand gently near the bird, which leaned slightly towards her touch. "While a thunderbird, even a young one, possesses immense power over storms, wielding it with such focused destructive force is another matter entirely. Their power is usually wilder, more instinctual, especially when young or distressed."

"Which brings us to the technology," Red Tornado interjected, his synthesized voice cutting through, drawing all eyes to him. "My own genesis involved technology and a powerful entity. My creator, Dr. T.O. Morrow, constructed this android body," he gestured briefly to his own chassis, "and merged it with an air elemental known as Ulthoon, granting me my atmospheric abilities. I am unaware of the exact specifics, as protocols Morrow embedded prevent me from accessing deeper knowledge of my own creation, even now."

Red Tornado seemed to focus intently on the salvaged Twister on the holographic display. "Seeing as this android chassis is designed to contain and interface with a being of immense elemental power. it is logical to assume someone is aware of Morrow's methods. They may be attempting to replicate the process, using this Thunderbird instead of an air elemental like Ulthoon." He turned his gaze back to the group, encompassing both the League members and the teenagers. "Whoever is responsible possesses significant knowledge of advanced robotics, and critically, awareness of either the Wizarding World's magical creatures or the continued existence and nature of beings tied to the ancient pantheons."

Zatara connected the points. "The android, via the robotic pilot, was using it as a power source. Forcing it to generate storms and amplifying them through technology to create those devastating, controlled tornadoes."

Jason picked up the collar removed from the bird earlier, which had been placed on the table. "So this collar..."

"Precisely," Zatara confirmed. "Likely a control mechanism. A conduit to directly stimulate and harness the bird's power against its will. The creature was likely terrified, its distress fueling the very storms destroying the town."

The thunderbird chirped again, nudging Zatara’s book gently with its beak before hopping over to rub its head against Harry’s outstretched hand, seeming exhausted now that the adrenaline had faded.

"So, the android pilot was using this poor creature like a battery," Robin summarized.

At that moment, the conference room door opened again, and Aquaman entered, followed by Kaldur'ahm. Kaldur looked calmer, his posture composed, though his expression remained deeply thoughtful as he took a place near the door wall, observing the ongoing discussion quietly. 

Aquaman stepped forward, his regal presence commanding attention. "I commend the Team for their perseverance and success in neutralizing this threat today. Your initiative, while flawed in execution at times, ultimately contained the danger." His gaze swept over the Team. "However, given the potential connection to Dr. Morrow and the clear targeting of a League member, the Justice League will handle the investigation from this point."

"But what if Tornado is still in danger?" Megan asked, looking anxiously at the stoic android. "What if there are more of these things?"

"The League protects its own, Miss Martian," Aquaman stated firmly, his tone conveying both reassurance and finality. "Red Tornado will not be left vulnerable. We will assess the threat."

Jason stepped forward then, looking directly at Wonder Woman, his expression earnest and determined. "Diana, with all due respect to the League's procedures," he began, his voice steady, "this involved more than just standard technology or rogue scientists. This creature," he gestured to the thunderbird, now resting calmly near Harry, "is proof of that. This can't be a coincidence. I know we aren't on the Team or part of the League, but what if there are other sacred animals or magical creatures out there being captured, exploited like this? We can't just let that stand.”

"Your concern is valid, Jason," she said finally, her tone measured and diplomatic. "And your group's unique perspective and capabilities are noted. For today, the immediate crisis is resolved, and the League's investigation protocols must proceed. We need to understand the full scope of Morrow's potential involvement and the technology used. But," she paused, her gaze sweeping across both groups, "should evidence arise of further incidents involving magical or mythological elements being misused in this manner, rest assured, you will all be kept informed and potentially involved. For now, however, this specific matter is closed pending League analysis."

Mount Justice
Lounge Area
20:32

Wally is sprawled sideways on one of the large couches, idly juggling the slightly dented eyeball salvaged from the guy inside the Twister android. Robin sits cross-legged on the floor nearby, holographic schematics of the Twister wreckage flickering above his gauntlet projector. Megan floats near the ceiling, sketching idly in a notebook, while Superboy stares intently at the blank TV screen. Percy, Dean, Blaise, and Daphne are gathered around the kitchen island, engaged in a low, murmuring conversation, with Ms. Jackson. Zatara had glamoured Jason and Harry and taken things to help them care for the young thunderbird.

Wally groans dramatically, dropping the eyeball onto his stomach. "Man, my head is spinning . Gods, androids, magic birds being used as batteries, secret demigod cousins... It's like Tuesdays back in Central City were tame compared to this." He watches the group in the kitchen for a moment. Percy gestures animatedly, Blaise nods, Ms. Jackson laughs.

"You know what's really exhausting, though?" Wally sits up abruptly, pointing the android eyeball towards the kitchen group. "Trying to figure out what to call them in my head! Like, okay, we're the Team. But them? 'Jason's group'? 'Daphne and the Boys'? 'Those magic guys plus the demigods'? It's to clunky!"

He taps the eyeball against his forehead thoughtfully. "Six of them,  all got the weird mojo thing going on, secrets, sticking together." A wide, trademark Kid Flash grin spreads across his face. He snaps his fingers.

"I got it! The Coven!" he declares triumphantly.

Robin looks up from his holograms, one eyebrow arched high. "Seriously, Wally? 'The Coven'? Could you possibly pick a more stereotypical label?"

Megan floats down slightly. "Is 'coven' typically used for friends?" she asks hesitantly.

"Hey, it fits!" Wally insists, defending his newfound nomenclature. "Group of people with powers, doing secret-y stuff, kinda spooky sometimes? Totally a coven! Way easier than 'Harry-Blaise-Jason-Dean-Percy-and-Daphne'. From now on, mental shorthand? The Coven." He leans back against the couch cushions, looking immensely pleased with himself. "Done."

Robin just sighs and goes back to analyzing the Twister schematics. Megan offers a small, uncertain smile before returning to her sketchbook. Superboy grunts, which might mean anything. In the kitchen, Percy catches Wally's eye and raises a questioning eyebrow, clearly having overheard, but Wally just gives him a cheerful, unrepentant thumbs-up.

Chapter Text

Time Skip

The aftermath of the Mr. Twister incident left ripples throughout Mount Justice. While Aquaman helped Kaldur'ahm process his feelings and understand his own vital role, the rest of the Team privately acknowledged the flaws in their performance. Though their official debrief focused on the victory, they knew their cohesion needed serious work if they were truly going to function as the League envisioned. The Coven, aware of the internal strife they'd witnessed, silently agreed to let the Team navigate their own growing pains, understanding that some lessons had to be learned internally.

The summer months tested the newly formed Team intensely, forging bonds while also revealing deep fractures. A mission in July to investigate the disappearance of Kent Nelson irrevocably altered perspectives. Confronted by Abra Kadabra and Klarion the Witch Boy, the Team found themselves outmatched. In a final act of heroism, Kent Nelson sacrificed his life to protect the young heroes. In a desperate move to save his friends, Wally West donned the Helmet of Nabu, briefly becoming the host for Doctor Fate. As Fate, Wally was able to frighten off Klarion and easily apprehend Kadabra. The experience left Kid Flash profoundly changed, shattering his previous denial of magic's reality and replacing it with a sobering respect, even if that’s not what he said to Artemis.

A significant, unifying triumph for the Team came later in the summer. With the crucial assistance of Zatara's daughter, Zatanna, who had begun occasionally aiding the Team, they finally unraveled the mystery of Red Tornado's "siblings," Red Torpedo and Red Inferno. Their investigation them led to T.O. Morrow’s newest creation, hidden in a workshop below Yellowstone National Park: the genocidal android, Red Volcano. The subsequent battle was fierce, requiring the combined might of the Team, Zatanna, and the newly-aware Red Tornado, Torpedo, and Inferno, to defeat Red Volcano and stop the eruption of a supervolcano.

For a time, following the revelations and the shared sense of accomplishment after the Red Volcano incident, an uneasy but generally amicable truce settled between the Team and the Coven. Shared training sessions under Black Canary or Zatara, downtime in the Cave's lounge, and Sally Jackson's  gentle, peacemaking nature and offerings of blue food fostered tentative connections.

This fragile harmony, however, shattered with the increasing presence of Speedy, now operating solo as Red Arrow. Driven by his own intense need to prove himself to G.A., irritation from not being allowed to join the League, and an abrasive personality, made no secret of his suspicion towards the Coven. He found their sudden appearance, immense power, and mysterious background highly suspect. Tensions boiled over on several occasions, particularly when his targeted, rude comments about them and potential allegiances nearly provoked a physical confrontation with an angered Percy and a dangerously cold Daphne. 

The Team found themselves caught in the middle. They knew Roy was out of line, his accusations unfounded and his manner unnecessarily harsh. Yet, torn between their long-standing loyalty and friendship with Roy and defending the newcomers, Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad failed to effectively intervene or de-escalate the situations, creating resentment from both sides. It later came to light that Sportsmaster had suggested to Aqualad that there was a mole within the Team. Red Arrow used that information as justification for his rude behavior and doubled down on his distrust of Artemis, Megan, Superboy and the seven newcomers who had access to the Cave but weren't officially League or Team.

Observing the escalating friction and recognizing the potential for disastrous mission failure if the groups couldn't cooperate, Batman made the executive decision that until the mole was identified and interpersonal issues were resolved, the Team and the Coven would operate separately. Joint training would continue under supervision with Black Canary, but mission assignments would be distinctly for the Team.

Accepting the decision with resignation, the Coven refocused on their intensive training regimens under Zatara, Black Canary, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman, continuing to piece together their pasts and master their unique abilities. Meanwhile, Zatanna began joining the Team more frequently on missions. Her magical prowess was a clear asset, but her attitude towards the Coven remained decidedly frosty. She harbored resentment over the time her father dedicated to training them, time she felt should be hers, despite the murmurs about wanting space from Giovanni, and chafed under his restrictions preventing her from fully joining the Team herself, seeing the Coven's presence as part of the reason.

September bled into October, bringing a semblance of routine defined by supervised training, and lingering tensions. Halloween arrived, bringing with it an attempt at reconciliation. Seeking to bridge the divide fostered by Red Arrow's antagonism, Megan and Superboy hesitantly approached the Coven. Megan extended an invitation to the Happy Harbor High Halloween dance that evening, suggesting they all attend together, a chance for normalcy and maybe a fresh start. The Coven seemed inclined to accept. The idea of a simple high school dance held appeal after months of intense training and isolation. 

Wally, who had been nearby waiting for another chance to flirt with Megan, crossed his arms, his earlier respect for magic overshadowed by his lingering defensiveness regarding the Red Arrow situation. "Start over? What did I do wrong?" he retorted stubbornly. "I didn't make Roy act like a jerk, and I'm not apologizing for trusting him. If they still have a problem, that's on them."

The atmosphere instantly chilled. Seeing the potential for the evening to devolve into the same old tensions, Harry, Percy, and Dean exchanged brief glances. With a quiet sigh that spoke volumes, Dean politely declined the invitation on behalf of the group. "Thanks for the offer, Megan, Conner," he said, using Superboy's preferred name with a small, appreciative nod towards him. "But maybe another time. Wouldn't want hot heads to prevail tonight and ruin the evening."

Disappointed but understanding the underlying message, Megan and Superboy didn't push. So, with the possibility of joining the local festivities soured by unresolved issues, the Coven opted for a complete change of scenery, deciding on a whim to experience Halloween in Los Angeles instead. They ventured out, leaving the Cave and its undercurrents behind for a few hours.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry
The Great Hall
Oct 31st, 20:20

The Great Hall at Hogwarts buzzed with an electric anticipation. Jack-o'-lanterns, lit from the inside, grinned from amongst the normal enchanted candles overhead, casting flickering shadows. The atmosphere was amplified tenfold by the presence of the delegations from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Durmstrang Institute, and several foreign dignitaries. Tonight, the ancient, prestigious and impartial judge, the Goblet of Fire, would officially select the champions to take part in the Triwizard Tournament.

At the head table, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore rose, his long silver beard gleaming in the candlelight. His presence commanded silence, the excited chatter fading expectantly. Beside him sat the statuesque Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madame Olympe Maxine, and the beady-eyed Headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff. Also present were the Ministers of Magic for Britain, France, and Bulgaria, alongside key Ministry officials like Bartemius Crouch Sr. and Ludo Bagman, lending an air of grave importance to the proceedings.

In the center of the dais stood the imposing Goblet of Fire. Its usually cool, bluish-white flames now burned with an intense, fiery ruby-red hue, signaling that the time for selection had arrived.
"Esteemed guests, students, colleagues," Dumbledore's voice resonated through the hall, amplified by a charm. "We are gathered here this Samhain, or as the muggles say, Halloween, to witness as the Goblet of Fire makes its selection. When the Champions' names are called, I ask that they please come forward to the front of the Hall, where they will shake hands with their respective Headmaster or Headmistress and Minister, before proceeding to the adjacent chamber."

He gestured first to the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. "Madam Maxine, if you would?"
With regal grace, the towering Headmistress approached the Goblet. Reaching out a large hand, she deliberately tapped the carved talon on the Goblet's clawed foot that bore the Beauxbatons crest – two crossed golden wands, each emitting three stars. Instantly, the ruby flames within the Goblet leaped high in the air like a fiery geyser, turning a violent pinkish-red before spitting out a single, slightly charred piece of parchment. The flames immediately calmed back to their intense red glow. Madam Maxine caught the parchment deftly but, without glancing at it, handed it straight to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smoothed it open. "The Champion for Beauxbatons," he declared clearly, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Polite applause rippled through the hall, interspersed with louder, more enthusiastic cheers from the Beauxbatons students seated at the Ravenclaw table. More than a few male students from all three schools, and even some of the press and officials, stared, momentarily captivated, as Fleur Delacour stood, a vision of silver-blonde hair and effortless grace. Flashing a quick smile, she gave a composed bow before gliding elegantly towards the dais. She shook hands formally with the French Minister of Magic and Madam Maxine, enduring a flurry of flashes from the gathered reporters' magical cameras, before disappearing into the side chamber as instructed.

Next, Dumbledore nodded to the Headmaster of Durmstrang. Igor Karkaroff strode forward, his expression eager yet severe. He tapped the clawed toe bearing the Durmstrang crest – a double-headed eagle. Again, the red flames surged, this time ejecting another piece of parchment. Karkaroff snatched it almost possessively before handing it, perhaps reluctantly, to Dumbledore.

"The Champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore announced, his voice echoing slightly, "is Viktor Krum!"

A roar went up, primarily from the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang contingent sat, but joined by applause from many others who recognized the name of the famous Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker. Krum rose slowly, acknowledging the cheers with little more than a slight incline of his head. He moved in a kind of hunched fashion, shook hands brusquely with Karkaroff and the Bulgarian Minister, ignored the reporters entirely, and followed Fleur into the side room.

The anticipation in the hall reached its peak as, finally, Dumbledore himself stepped up to the ancient artifact. With a sense of ceremony, he lightly tapped the talon bearing the Hogwarts crest – a shield divided into four quadrants for the four houses, with an H on the the center. The Goblet's red flames roared towards the enchanted ceiling, higher than before, and delivered the third piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it, a smile touching his eyes as he read the name. He quickly showed it to Maxine and Karkaroff, who nodded their assent.

"The Hogwarts Champion," Dumbledore called out, his voice filled with warmth, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The loudest cheers yet erupted, particularly from the Hufflepuff table, who leaped to their feet, stamping and whistling. Cedric, handsome and beaming with surprise and pleasure, stood up, waved to his cheering housemates, and made his way towards the front, shaking hands with nearly every Hufflepuff as he passed. He reached the dais, shaking Dumbledore's hand warmly, then turned to Britain's Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who was puffing out his chest proudly. As Cedric reached out to shake Fudge's hand, a gasp rippled through the hall. 

The Goblet of Fire had suddenly flared violently again. Its ruby flames turned a furious, pulsing scarlet, and with a sound like a small explosion, it spat out a fourth piece of parchment, which fluttered downwards in the suddenly silent hall.

Instinctively, Dumbledore snatched the parchment from the air before it could reach the floor. Confusion morphed into stunned disbelief as he read the name written upon it in scratch letters. His eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles, a flicker of something akin to shock crossing his ancient features. Murmuring uneasily, he held the parchment out for Madame Maxine and Karkaroff to see. Maxine gasped aloud, covering her mouth, while Karkaroff's face contorted with suspicion and outrage.

Dumbledore straightened up, the parchment trembling almost imperceptibly in his hand. He looked out over the sea of utterly bewildered faces, took a deep breath, and announced, his voice strained but carrying through the unnatural quiet, "The Goblet of Fire has selected a fourth champion." He paused, his gaze sweeping the hall as if searching. "The fourth Triwizard Champion is… Harry Potter."

Chaos erupted. Cries of shock, confusion, and disbelief echoed off the stone walls. Students were on their feet, shouting questions, pointing, arguing. The reporters surged forward, cameras flashing blindingly, questions flying like curses towards the tournament officials, the three Heads, and the stunned Ministers of Magic. How could this happen? Where is Harry Potter? What school would he be competing for?

Mount Justice

Nov. 1st, 06:51 

The next morning the Coven left their living quarters expecting to have a normal day of lessons with Zatara, and training with Black Canary. Instead, they found Sally Jackson, armed only with a kitchen towel, trying desperately to contain five agitated owls within the confines of the main conference room.

“Hey guys,” called Sally, relief flooding her features.

“Mom? What’s with the owls?” asked Percy, dropping his candy bag and giving his slightly frazzled mother a one-armed hug. A nearby barn owl perched on a chair back glared balefully at Percy, who reflexively bared his teeth back at the bird.

“I wish I knew, honey,” sighed Sally, flicking the towel futilely at a tawny owl that had landed perilously close to the cookie plate. The owl screeched indignantly and flew up to perch on a high light fixture, joining two others already roosting there. “They started showing up about an hour ago. I see most have letters tied to their legs, but they won’t let me anywhere near them to see who they're for. I can’t even figure out how they got in here!”

Dean cautiously approached a short-eared owl fluttering nervously near the conference table. As it swiped a sharp-taloned foot towards him, he simply made himself intangible, his hand passing through the aggressive limb. “Harry! This one’s got your name on it.” He reached his incorporeal hand towards the letter tied to its leg, but the owl barked, flapping into the air and glaring down at him with bright, intelligent eyes.

Daphne and Blaise exchanged a slightly apprehensive look. No one in the magical world should be writing to Harry. Nobody had seen him, written to him or communicated with him. Harry stepped forward, past Dean, and slowly offered his forearm as a perch. The short-eared owl seemed to hesitate for only a second before hooting softly and landing gently upon his arm. It immediately lifted its leg, presenting the letter that Harry carefully untied. Its task complete, the owl hooted twice, launched itself from Harry’s arm, and flew out the conference room door and purposefully down the tunnel leading towards the underground harbor entrance, disappearing into the darkness.

Harry looked down at the thick parchment envelope in his hand. Written in a messy, looping scrawl, the address simply read:

Mr. Harry J. Potter Location: Unknown.

He flipped it over. The back was sealed with a crest imprinted in red wax – a shield emblazoned with a badger, an eagle, a lion, and a serpent surrounding a large letter 'H'. With a growing sense of unease, Harry broke the seal. Inside were two pieces of parchment: a folded letter and what looked like a rolled-up newspaper. Daphne gently took the newspaper, recognizing the name, The Daily Prophet , and carefully unfolded it. The front page featured a large, moving photograph of an old wizard with a long silver beard and twinkling eyes, wearing flamboyant royal purple robes dotted with yellow stars with a green cloak. He stood beaming beside a large, wooden goblet from which eerie blue flames blazed just above the rim. In his hand, he held a small, smoking piece of parchment. Below that main photo was a smaller inset image, displaying the elegant, slightly singed writing on that very piece of parchment:

Harry Potter

“What’s the letter say?” Blaise asked, moving to stand beside Harry, peering over his shoulder as Harry unfolded the other piece of parchment.

MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Department of Magical Games and Sports

OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE

To: Mr. Harry James Potter (Current Address Unknown – Attempting Trace)

1st November

Subject: -URGENT- Immediate Action Required

Dear Mr. Potter,

I write to you under circumstances that are, to put it mildly, utterly baffling and unprecedented, even by the often-eccentric standards of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. On the evening of October 31st, during the selection ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts, your name emerged from the Goblet of Fire, designating you as a fourth Champion.

This is, for several reasons, profoundly irregular. Firstly, the Tournament is traditionally limited to three Champions, one from each participating school. Secondly, and far more concerningly, our records confirmed by Headmaster Dumbledore, that you have been absent from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past six years. Your last known location, according to Ministry records, was with your Muggle relatives, a location from which you disappeared without a trace at the age of eleven.

The emergence of your name from the Goblet under these circumstances has frankly sent the entire Ministry into a tailspin. The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical artifact, designed to select eligible candidates who have intentionally entered their names. The fact that it has selected you, despite your absence and presumed ineligibility, suggests a level of magical interference that is deeply troubling, and possibly indicative of a very serious breach of magical law.

The Department of Magical Games and Sports, along with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has launched an immediate and full-scale investigation. We are exploring all possibilities.

However, and this is where the situation becomes acutely problematic, the selection by the Goblet of Fire creates a binding magical contract . Regardless of how your name came to be entered, the act of the Goblet selecting you has initiated a magical agreement that cannot be easily broken. We are currently consulting with the most senior Unspeakables and curse breakers to determine the precise nature of this contract and the potential ramifications of non-compliance, which, in the case of traditional contracts, are historically severe. Given the unprecedented nature of your selection, the exact consequences are unknown, but we must assume they are, at most, fatal.

Therefore, Mr. Potter, despite the extraordinary circumstances and our current inability to even locate you directly, I must insist that you present yourself at the Ministry of Magic at the absolute earliest opportunity. We need to ascertain your current status, explain the intricacies of the Tournament, and, crucially, work with you to determine a course of action that will prevent a breach of this magical contract. Your participation, however unwilling or unexpected, is now legally and magically mandated.

We are actively attempting to trace your location. If you receive this communication through any means, please respond immediately . The situation is highly volatile, and your cooperation is of paramount importance, both for your own safety and the integrity of the magical world.

With a sense of profound urgency and considerable confusion,

Ludovic Bagman

Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports 

The British Ministry of Magic

“What!?!”

Harry jumped at Jason’s exclamation. Jason had approached an eagle owl who’d stared him down for a moment before offering its leg. Jason removed the magazine attached and began to read the article with Percy and Sally.  “Harry, you never mentioned you’re a Lord.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jason tossed the magazine over, which had a picture of the Goblet of Fire on the cover under the title, The Witch Weekly. 

In the center of the magazine was split into two photos. On the left, a photo of Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory all posing for pictures. On the right side of the centerfold, there was a photo of an outline of male with no visible features, meant to represent Harry apparently.

Potter’s Perilous Plunge into the Triwizard Tournament

By Lady Anatasia Downwinter

Oh, the wizarding world is abuzz, simply abuzz, with the most scandalous news! Harry J. Potter, Heir to the Lordship of the Most Ancient & Most Noble House of Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the very same hero who vanished into thin air fifteen years ago, is set to reappear! And in the most dramatic fashion, no less! His name has been drawn from the Goblet of Fire, thrusting him into the heart of the Triwizard Tournament.

Whispers abound, dear readers, whispers and gasps of astonishment! Who dared enter his name? Was it a mischievous prank, an unknown rival's ploy, or perhaps something more sinister, a plot woven in the shadows? And oh, the suspense! Will he compete? Will he don the Hogwarts robes? And if so, in which house will the Sorting Hat place him? Gryffindor, like his parents? Or perhaps Slytherin, echoing the lineage of his cunning great-grandmother?  The possibilities are simply titillating!

The tournament itself promises to be a spectacle beyond compare. The champions, each more formidable than the last, will face trials that will test their courage, their skill, and their very souls. Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Quidditch prodigy, Fleur Delacour, the bewitching French enchantress, Cedric Diggory, the pride of Hogwarts – and now, Harry Potter, the enigma, the legend returned.

But is he truly prepared? They say he has been away from formal magical education for years. Can he possibly hope to compete against such seasoned rivals? Or will his alleged raw talent, that allowed him to defeat a previously though unstoppable Dark Lord as an infant no less, be enough to secure his victory?

The stakes have never been higher, the anticipation never more intense. Every witch and wizard, every creature and even the ghosts, are holding their breath. Will Harry Potter rise once more, a phoenix from the ashes? Or will he fall, his legend tarnished, his magic dimmed? Only time will tell, dear readers, only time. And oh, how we shall savor every moment!

 “What does this Bagman guy mean, that your name came out of this cup and you have to compete? That doesn’t seem fair,” Jason said as he read over the letter. 

“It’s magic,” Daphne answered as she took a seat on one of the couches, “Harry’s name was placed into a magical object that selected him. If formed a magical contract and now you have to compete or lose your magic. I doubt that a magical object like the Goblet has any capabilities to allow you to withdraw from the games. We could ask Zatara if he has any ideas on how to reverse this.”

Twenty minutes later Zatara stands solemnly before a group of concerned individuals. In his hands is a copy of an American magical newspaper, The Daily Dispatch, with similar news of the events at Hogwarts. Standing with him were Batman and Wonder Woman. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as he delivered the grim news. "I'm sorry, my boy," he addressed Harry, "but the Goblet of Fire's magical contract is binding. Given its ancient nature, there's no safe way to predict how it will react if you don't participate in the Tournament. I don't want you to die, but I also don't want you to be forced into this. However, participating is the lesser of two evils. Once it's over, you can move on with your life."

Harry's frustration was palpable. He clenched his fists, grappling with the injustice of the situation. There seemed to be no way out of the Tournament that didn't involve pain or death. He was now forced to face a crowd of people who were quick to judge him based solely on his name. The Rita Skeeter woman from The Daily Prophet had already painted him as a tragic hero, an attention seeker, and a drama queen, all because his name had been drawn from the Goblet. With a heavy sigh, Harry ran a hand through his hair and resigned himself to his fate. "Alright, so when do I leave?"

Blaise, Harry's loyal friend, was instantly by his side. "Harry," he corrected, "you mean when are we leaving?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What, no! I can't ask you to go! This is my burden to bear. I can go, be in the Tournament, while you all stay here and re-acclimate to as normal a life as possible."

Blaise gently tugged on a lock of Harry's hair. "No, we're family," he insisted. "Besides, we need you just as much as you need us. There isn't anyone there who is genuinely in your corner, that we know of. If what Zatara says is true, these people worship you and have been wanting to see you for years, but that doesn't mean they are your friends. We, however, do know you and we've got your back. Besides, going back to the UK means Daphne can confront her father and his wife and sister head-on, Dean can visit his family more frequently. My mother has a house in London, so you can meet her when she's in town. Plus, with how knowledgeable she is of the Wizarding World, she can help us navigate this new landscape."

Harry's resistance crumbled, replaced by a warm smile. "Fine," he conceded. "Looks like we're going to Hogwarts."

Batman, ever vigilant, turned to Sally. "Sally," he said, "can I speak with you for a moment?"

Sally nodded and followed Batman and Wonder Woman to a nearby office, leaving Zatara to arrange their return to the UK.

"I'd suggest," Zatara began, flicking his wand, "you give this letter to this Bagman. It will require him to swear a vow of secrecy. In the letter I'll inform him that you have been studying with me for the past several years. I know that the Wizarding World has an unfavorable view on magicals, like myself and Dr. Fate, who have revealed themselves to the no-majs. But at least your magical training won’t be disputed."

“Now,” said Zatara, “all of you need to know that the British Wizarding World is very strict about formalities. You’ve all seen the article about Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet of Fire and how they were calling him the soon to be Lord of House Potter. That is not some made up title. In the Wizarding World, the Potter name holds weight. I do not know all the ins and outs of your family history Harry, but what I do know is that the title is your birthright and will be part of the reason for heavy scrutiny. You should read that book by Lady Downwinter. She gives a thorough lesson of etiquette and how to navigate the social pressure of the Wizarding World. Plus Daphne, as Heiress Greengrass, is of a high enough standing to help you out.”

“Yes but, it's been years since I've had my lessons, Mr. Zatara,” Daphne responded as she wrung her hands, “and what about my sister Astoria, she’s likely to be at Hogwarts. What if her mother, Aliza,  discovers I'm there?” 

Zatara smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle your sister and stepmother. Now, I need you, Blaise, Harry and Dean to come with me.”

Chapter Text

Gringotts

Colonial Exchange Square

New Hampshire

09:18, Nov. 1st

With a soft pop, Zatara, Harry, Blaise, Daphne and Dean appeared in a quiet alley. The air instantly felt different, crisp, carrying the distinct scents of pine and old woodsmoke, a stark contrast to the salty tang of Happy Harbor they'd left moments before. 

"Alright everyone," Zatara said, turning to the four teenagers accompanying him, Harry, Daphne, Blaise, and Dean. Percy and Jason had training with Aquaman and Wonder Woman respectively and so had remained behind. "Stick close, and no drawing unnecessary attention." He raised his hand, murmuring a complex incantation under his breath.  A subtle shimmer, almost invisible, seemed to pass over the four teens. It wasn't a change in their physical appearance, but rather a potent perception filter, a powerful variant of a Notice-Me-Not charm designed to make them blend seamlessly into the background. To anyone else besides Zatara, they would appear utterly unremarkable, their features indistinct, easily overlooked in the bustling crowd. "This should ensure we proceed without undue scrutiny," Zatara finished quietly.

Zatara led the way out into a bustling, cobblestone square hidden from mundane eyes, nestled deep within a New Hampshire forest. Magically preserved and subtly updated Colonial-era buildings lined the square, housing intriguing shops: Silver River Silks, Potions by Proctor, the Hearthstone Repository, Goldsmith’s Tap, and P.J. Tilton’s Wands. This was Colonial Exchange Square, one of America's older, more secluded wizarding communities.Their destination stood prominently at the head of the square: an imposing edifice of gleaming white marble, Gringotts Wizarding Bank. According to Zatara the American branch shared the same intimidating architecture as its famous London counterpart.

"Here in the States, you'll find the goblins," Zatara murmured in a lower voice as they approached the grand bronze doors, "are generally considered... marginally more amicable than their European cousins. Still, maintain decorum. They respect strength, discretion, and proper protocol above all else."

Pushing open the heavy doors, they entered the familiar grandeur of the vast banking hall. Polished marble floors reflected the light from enchanted chandeliers high above. Rows of tall counters stretched across the hall, each manned by a goblin diligently weighing jewels, scrutinizing ledgers, or attending to waiting wizards and witches. The Notice-Me-Not charm worked perfectly; patrons and guards alike glanced past the four teenagers accompanying Zatara as if they were merely uninteresting shadows in his wake.

Zatara confidently approached one of the head tellers, a wizened goblin with sharp eyes peering over small, gold-rimmed spectacles. Ignoring the other patrons, Zatara leaned slightly towards the goblin and spoke, not in English, but in the harsh, guttural clicks and syllables of Gobbledegook.

"<Greetings, Teller. May your coffers overflow. I request an audience with Advisor Rindjaw regarding the Zatara family accounts and a matter of utmost confidentiality,>" Zatara's pronunciation was flawless, earning a flicker of genuine surprise in the goblin teller's sharp features. Few wizards bothered to learn their tongue.

The goblin replied in the same language, his tone shifting from mere tolerance to something closer to respect. "<Your request is noted, Master Zatara. Follow Grimtooth.>" He gestured towards another, younger goblin who materialized beside them, bowing slightly to the senior goblin before turning to lead the way.

Grimtooth guided them away from the main hall, through a series of secure corridors lined with heavy vault doors, finally stopping before an ornate, rune-etched wooden door. He knocked sharply twice, waited for a curt "Enter!" from within, and ushered the group inside before silently closing the door behind them.

The private office was richly appointed but stark. Behind a large, darkwood desk sat another goblin, older than the teller, with deeper scars etched onto his cunning face and sharper points to his ears and teeth. He wore a finely tailored black suit with a tie of deep crimson. Rindjaw, the Zatara family advisor.

Rindjaw's sharp eyes immediately fixed on Zatara as he entered, giving only the briefest, dismissive glance to the unassuming figures behind him."Your wand, wizard," he commanded curtly in English, holding out a long-fingered hand, palm up. Standard Gringotts procedure for verifying identity as Zatara had mentioned.

Without hesitation, Zatara drew his wand, a sleek, elegant instrument with predominantly black wood that abruptly became a pale, yellowish white at the tip. He placed it carefully into the goblin's outstretched hand.

Rindjaw brought the wand up close, turning it over, his eyes seeming to assess its very magical signature. He ran a clawed finger along its smooth, blended surface. After a moment of silent scrutiny, he nodded curtly. "Eleven inches. Ebony wood blended with yew. The core, powdered white river monster spine." He placed the wand back on the desk within Zatara's reach, his gaze now meeting the magician's directly, satisfied with the verification. 

"Master Zatara. An unexpected visit," Rindjaw greeted, his eyes sliding over the teenagers under the perception filter.

"Advisor Rindjaw. May your enemies' gold line your vaults," Zatara returned the formal greeting. "Rindjaw, I thank you for seeing me on short notice. I am here today not only on Zatara family business, but primarily on behalf of these individuals." He gestured to the four behind him. "Due to the sensitive nature of their identities and the purpose of their visit, I must request a formal Vow of Secrecy regarding all that is discussed and revealed within this chamber."

Rindjaw leaned back, steepling his long, claw-like fingers, his gaze sharpening slightly as he considered Zatara's request concerning his unremarkable companions. "A vow of secrecy is not granted lightly, Zatara. Gringotts values confidentiality, but such a vow binds us under magical contract. I require assurance." He leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a menacingly soft tone. "I will agree, under this condition: should any information revealed herein jeopardize the security, secrets, or autonomy of the Goblin Nation or Gringotts itself, the vow is void. And I will not hesitate," his gaze hardened, "to ensure the offending parties face consequences. Arrest by our guards would be the least of your concerns." The threat hung heavy in the air.

Zatara met the goblin's stare unflinchingly. "The terms are understood and accepted. The information we bring does not concern goblin affairs, only the identities and needs of my companions."

Rindjaw gave a curt nod. "Very well. The vow is accepted under those terms. Proceed. Let me see who warrants such measures."

Zatara turned slightly and uttered a soft counter spell. The subtle shimmer around the four teenagers dissipated. It felt like static clearing from the air, suddenly, Harry, Daphne, Blaise, and Dean seemed to snap into sharp focus, their presence fully registering in the room. Rindjaw's eyes, which had previously skimmed over them, now widened fractionally as he truly saw them for the first time, becoming sharp with recognition when his eyes fell on Harry's distinct lightning bolt scar.

Zatara introduced them briefly, focusing on their need for discretion. "- And this is Harry Potter," he finished, indicating Harry. "He requires assistance accessing his family's accounts."

Rindjaw's gaze fixed on Harry again, the surprise replaced by shrewd calculation. "The Potter accounts," he stated, his tone purely businesslike. "Are we discussing the British holdings, Mr. Potter, or the American Potter branch?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he exchanged astonished looks with Daphne, Blaise, and Dean. An American branch? Zatara himself looked momentarily surprised before quickly recovering. "Ah," Zatara interjected smoothly, glancing at Harry for confirmation, "We require access to the British accounts, please, Rindjaw."

Rindjaw gave a thin, knowing smile. "As expected. Those accounts fall under the direct jurisdiction of the British Branch in London. While inter-branch cooperation exists, certain protocols must be observed, especially for dormant or high security vaults like those of the Potters." His gaze sharpened. "Before I contact London, I must verify your identity beyond doubt, Mr. Potter. Present your wand, please."

“I don’t have one. I’ve never had a wand,” Harry admitted, feeling a pang of worry. Would not having a wand prevent him from learning or accessing his family history?

Rindjaw blinked slowly, his expression unreadable. "No wand?" He considered this for a second, then nodded curtly. "An alternative verification method exists, though it is less pleasant for humans." He opened a drawer in his desk.

He withdrew a wicked looking black quill with an unusually sharp nib and a fresh roll of official parchment bearing the Gringotts seal. "This," Rindjaw explained, placing the items on the desk with deliberate care, "is a Blood Quill. Outside of Gringotts, the only other authorized users of Blood Quills are less refined Dwarven banking establishments, and the Ministries of Magic around the world. Any other entities or persons in possession or utilizing such an item is highly illegal." He tapped the quill's point. "It requires no ink since it uses your blood. The process simultaneously verifies your magical signature against known records." He then tapped the parchment. "This is Ministry grade Anti-Perjury Parchment, enchanted to identify any untrue information written upon it. You will write your full name. The magic will confirm your identity or reveal your deception."

Rindjaw leaned back again, a predatory smile playing on his lips, revealing pointed teeth. "Naturally, such a verification carries a fee. Two hundred Galleons. A trifle, if you are indeed Heir Potter. If you are not…" The smile widened slightly. "...well, let's just say we have ways of collecting our fee, one way or another."

Harry met the goblin's challenging stare, swallowing nervously but steeling his resolve. This was it. A key to his past, his heritage. He nodded curtly. "I understand. I'll do it."

Taking a steadying breath, Harry reached for the quill and pulled the parchment towards himself. As he pressed the nib to the surface and began to write Harry James Potter, a sharp, stinging pain flared across the back of his left hand, mirroring the quill's movement. Glancing down in surprise, he saw faint, red lines momentarily tracing the letters onto his skin before fading almost instantly as the blood was drawn into the quill itself. A painful but apparently temporary effect. He shot a look at Zatara, who gave a single nod. 

Finished, Harry carefully placed the quill back on the desk and pushed the parchment towards Rindjaw, the letters inscribed in his own shimmering blood.

Rindjaw stared intently at the parchment. Harry and the others held their breath, watching alongside him. After nearly two long, silent minutes, the parchment emitted a soft, golden glow. The blood shimmered, then shifted, turning a vibrant green as the magic confirmed both the name and the unique magical signature matched the Potter records.

Rindjaw hummed, a sound of grudging satisfaction, as he looked over the confirmed name. “Very well, Heir Potter. Your identity is confirmed.” He opened another drawer on his desk, taking out a small, ornate silver box and a standard quill. "Please give me a few moments while I contact our sister branch." He quickly penned a short, coded message on a slip of Anti-Perjury Parchment, placed it along with Harry's verified parchment into the box and closed the lid. Rindjaw tapped a sequence of glowing golden runes on the lid; they flared brightly for a second before the glow vanished.

"Now, we wait for London's response," Rindjaw stated, settling back in his chair, his sharp eyes watching them, particularly Harry, with renewed interest.

Zatara smiled, a polite, professional expression. "Thank you, Rindjaw." He reached smoothly into an inner jacket pocket and produced a neatly folded piece of paper. "While we await their reply," he continued, unfolding the paper slightly, "perhaps you could assist with another matter? Would you be able to establish a new account for the names on this list?" On the paper was Sally’s name, as the primary account holder, with Percy and Jason listed as authorized users. Dean’s name was also on the paper, for his own account.

Rindjaw eyed the list, then Zatara skeptically. "And where are Ms. Jackson, and Messers Jackson and Grace? You know account establishment requires an in person consultation, Zatara."

"Indeed," Zatara replied smoothly, clearly prepared for the objection. "But I also know Gringotts policy allows for exceptions regarding immediate family members of established magical persons opening baseline accounts, particularly when distance is a factor. The policy also permits a new account to be established provided the prospective primary customer, if of age, presents themselves in person to a Gringotts branch within thirty days of the account's genesis for final identity verification." He leaned forward slightly. "Sally Jackson is a Squib and of age. Percy is her son, Jason her nephew, both minors, cousins through their fathers. As for Dean Thomas he will require his own standard vault, though I believe he wishes to have his mother given access." Zatara looked at Dean who nodded.

Rindjaw’s thin lips curled into something resembling a smile, a brief flash of pointed teeth visible. "Very good, wizard. Your knowledge of banking regulations and magical lineage laws has not entirely degraded from your mingling in the no-maj world."

As he finished speaking, the ornate silver box on his desk, which had received the message to London, suddenly emitted a soft, pulsing golden light. "Ah," Rindjaw noted with satisfaction. "It seems the London branch has been prompt with their response." He paused, considering Zatara's list again. "Very well. I will have one of my junior goblins open the new accounts and process the necessary authorizations for the individuals listed." He fixed Zatara with a stern look. "But you must ensure the clients report to Gringotts within the required thirty days for finalization, or the accounts will be closed and funds absorbed by Gringotts. Understood?"

"Understood, Rindjaw," Zatara confirmed.

Rindjaw reached over and tapped a small, gold bell on his desk. It chimed musically and almost instantly, the office door opened and a younger female goblin entered. She had the same sharp features as Rindjaw but fewer lines around her eyes, carrying an air of focused efficiency.

 "This is my daughter, Windjaw," Rindjaw introduced briefly, "She will handle the creation of these accounts and insert the initial deposits you requested." He handed Zatara's list to Windjaw, adding a few short instructions in rapid fire Gobbledegook. Windjaw nodded curtly, gave the wizards and teenagers a brief glance before departing as quickly as she had arrived.

Rindjaw turned his attention back to the glowing box. He tapped the lid once and it sprang open silently. He withdrew a new, thicker scroll sealed with the Gringotts London wax seal. Breaking the seal, he scanned the contents quickly, his expression becoming carefully neutral.

"Your identity has been confirmed," Rindjaw declared finally, setting the scroll down. He looked directly at Harry. "According to the records held by London you, Harry James Potter, age sixteen," he consulted the scroll, "currently hold the following titles and claims: Heir Apparent to the Most Ancient & Noble House of Potter; Heir Presumptive to the Most Ancient & Noble House of Black." He paused, reading further. "Additionally, Heir to the Ancient & Noble House of Gryffindor."

Dean whispered to Blaise, who was sitting  next to him "What's the difference between Heir Apparent and Heir Presumptive again?"

Blaise answered quietly, his voice smooth and knowledgeable, "Heir Apparent means Harry is the direct, undisputed inheritor of the Potter line, since his father is deceased and Harry is the eldest or only son. Barring some obscure magical contract, no one can legally displace him from inheriting the main Potter title and assets. Heir Presumptive," Blaise continued, glancing at Harry, "means he's currently first in line to inherit the Black title because of the current Lord Black's designation, but his position could be displaced if someone with a stronger claim under the family charter were to contest it. For instance, a legitimate child born to the current Lord Black."

Rindjaw gave Blaise an approving nod. "A succinct and accurate explanation, Mr. Zabini." He turned his sharp gaze back to Harry, focusing on the Black lineage details. "Regarding the House of Black, your godfather, the Lord Sirius Black, formally declared you his heir the day you were born." Rindjaw consulted the scroll again. "You possess Black blood through your paternal grandmother, Dorea Potter nee Black, Lord Black's great-aunt, which validates your eligibility under the family charter. But, technically, Heir Draco Malfoy stands closer in direct lineage through his mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, who is Lord Black's first cousin."

Rindjaw tapped a specific line on the parchment, marked with intricate runic indicators. "However, Lord Black and your parents, performed a modified blood adoption ritual naming you as his son in magic and blood, though not altering your Potter name. This legally solidifies your position ahead of Heir Malfoy in the line of succession for the Black Lordship. As things currently stand, only a legitimate child sired by Lord Sirius Black himself could displace you as Heir Presumptive."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes wide with shock as he latched onto one specific detail amidst the flood of information about Houses and lineage. "I have a godfather? Sirius Black?" 

Zatara visibly paled, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a second. He quickly slid forward in his seat, placing a hand briefly on Harry's shoulder. "Harry," he said, his voice low but firm, laced with an urgency that quieted Harry's burgeoning questions. "That man, Sirius Black has a very complex and difficult history within the magical world, and his situation is… sensitive." He met Harry's bewildered gaze. "If you don't mind, I would strongly prefer we conclude our business here first. When we return home, I will explain everything I know regarding Sirius Black." 

Harry looked utterly confused, glancing between Zatara's suddenly grave expression and the impassive goblin advisor, but he sensed the urgency in Zatara's tone. He swallowed hard and reluctantly acquiesced with a stiff nod. Zatara turned back to the goblin. "Rindjaw, please continue."

Rindjaw gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug and returned his attention to the scroll. "There is a notation of one further potential House claim, however, the details have been magically redacted until such time as specific conditions related to that lineage are fulfilled."

Rinjaw took a sip of water from the glass on his desk, then continued in a dry monotone. "Regarding tangible assets, you hold claim to several properties across Britain, Switzerland, and France, primarily through the Potter and Black estates. There is also notation of a Potter vacation property here in North America, location unplottable. There’s a Black family retreat somewhere in South America as well. As for the Gryffindor legacy," Rindjaw squinted down the scroll, "it appears largely monetary, in the Gryffindor family vault, along with some other articles, books and robes. The physical assets listed are designated quarters for Godric Gryffindor within Hogwarts School in the Scottish Highlands."

Rindjaw leaned forward slightly then, his sharp eyes glinting with a seriousness that commanded attention. "There is one significant addendum regarding Gryffindor, Heir Potter. Records indicate a goblin forged artifact, commonly and improperly referred to by wizards as the 'Sword of Gryffindor,' was loaned to Godric Gryffindor centuries ago under specific contract terms." His voice held a dangerous edge. "This item, goblin property by right of creation, was never returned to the Goblin Nation upon Gryffindor's death." He fixed Harry with an intense stare. "Should you come across this blade, it is expected – no, required – that you return it to Gringotts immediately. Failure to do so would constitute a severe breach of ancient agreements between wizards and Goblin Nation, with significant repercussions."

Harry nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of the goblin's warning alongside everything else he'd just learned. "I understand. Regarding the sword and the other terms. Thank you for the information." He took another steadying breath, pushing aside the swirling questions to focus on immediate practicalities. "Regarding the properties you mentioned, which ones in the UK are immediately available for myself and my friends to move into relatively soon?"

Rindjaw consulted the scroll again briefly, his clawed finger tracing down a list. "Excluding properties currently under long-term magical rental contracts or those requiring extensive repairs, there are five primary candidates suitable for immediate occupation." He ticked them off. "First, Potter Manor outside of Edinburgh, the ancestral seat. Records indicate it is currently maintained by five Potter house-elves. Second, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the Black family residence in London; a significant five story townhome though current internal conditions and staffing levels, if any, are unknown."

Rindjaw's lip curled slightly in distaste as he continued. "Third is the Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow which is currently uninhabitable and remains under an unlawful custodial claim by the British Ministry as some sort of misplaced 'war memorial'. Reclaiming ownership would require direct legal action against the Ministry, followed by complete demolition and reconstruction due to the catastrophic damage it sustained nearly fifteen years ago." He dismissed it with a wave. "Fourth is a property listed simply as 'The Grim's Loft' in Edinburgh, Scotland, registered under Sirius Black's name; access might be complicated by his status. Fifth, and perhaps most logistically accessible for immediate use, is the Potter Townhouse located on Dover Street in London."

"Potter Manor would be the traditional seat of power for the Head of House," Daphne commented thoughtfully. "It offers security and likely ancient family wards."

Harry nodded, appreciating her point. "The Manor sounds impressive and having house-elves already there is definitely a plus," He hesitated, his brow furrowed in concern. "My main consideration, though, beyond security, is for Ms. Jackson, Sally. She'll be coming with us when we relocate."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Dean asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Just that, Sally's used to living in New York City and now Happy Harbor. She has her friends, a certain level of freedom and independence in the mundane world, even while working with the  League," Harry explained earnestly. "Taking her to an old, likely very isolated magical manor, possibly under heavy wards, might severely limit her ability to have her own life outside of our bubble, her social activities. I don't want her to feel trapped or cut off just because we’re living in a magical community."

Dean's eyes lit up with understanding, then narrowed as he recalled Rindjaw's list. "Wait, did you say the townhouse was on Dover Street? In London?"

Rindjaw gave a curt, affirmative nod. "Correct."

"That's brilliant! That could be perfect!" Dean exclaimed, turning to Harry with sudden enthusiasm. "Harry, my mum, she lives in Notting Hill! It's practically neighbors in London terms, not far from Dover at all, an easy trip on the Tube or by bus! If you chose the townhouse, Sally could easily meet her. Mum knows loads of people, no-maj mostly. It would give Sally an instant potential social circle right there in London, help her feel less isolated, and build her own connections!"

Blaise considered it, then nodded slowly in agreement. "Dean makes a good point. A London townhouse offers far more opportunity for normalized social interaction than a potentially secluded ancestral manor, regardless of the prestige."

Daphne conceded gracefully, "Logistically and considering Ms. Jackson's well-being and transition, the townhouse is indeed the more practical. Even though it lacks the ancestral significance of the Manor. Potter Manor can be assessed later."

Zatara smiled warmly, clearly approving of Harry's consideration and Dean's solution. "An excellent compromise.

Seeing the consensus and feeling the rightness of prioritizing Sally's adjustment over tradition or status, Harry made his decision. He looked back at Rindjaw, his choice clear. "Okay. The Potter Townhouse on Dover Street."

Rindjaw smiled, “For a fee, Gringotts can have an international portkey made and ready for you.”

Chapter Text

Mount Justice

19:07, Nov. 3rd

The next few days following their trip to Colonial Exchange Square, (or "CES." as Dean had started to call it)  were a whirlwind of preparation. Zatara advised against the instantaneous but often jarring method of international portkeys, initially planning a direct portal. Meanwhile, packing commenced. Having arrived at Mount Justice with virtually nothing months prior, their accumulated possessions were meager, mostly clothes, shoes, essential toiletries, a growing collection of books (both magical and mundane), and a few personal trinkets acquired during their stay. Zatara, ever practical, conjured sturdy moving boxes, and the packing was completed in a single afternoon, leaving only the farewells.

The Team insisted on throwing a proper send off party. Despite the underlying tension, genuine bonds had formed, particularly during shared downtime and training. The main lounge of Mount Justice buzzed with a bittersweet energy. Batman, Flash, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Superman, Martian Manhunter, Black Canary, Green Arrow, and Red Tornado all materialized via the Zeta Tubes, joining the Team and the Coven for snacks (including Sally's requisite blue cookies) and farewells.

The Leaguers hadn't come empty handed either. Wonder Woman stepped forward first, addressing Daphne with a warm smile. She presented the blonde with a beautiful, intricately designed golden torc . "Daphne, this was crafted for an Amazon long ago. It carries protective enchantments." Diana explained, "To activate it, simply channel a small burst of magic into it."

Hesitantly, Daphne fastened the torc around her neck. After taking a deep breath, she focused her will, pushing a thread of golden energy into the metal. Harry didn't quite know how to describe what happened next; it wasn't like apparition, more like light bending around her. One moment she stood before them in her stylish jeans and blouse, the next, she was clad in breathtaking armor. A gleaming gold and silver segmented bustier offered protection while allowing movement, flowing into matching trousers tucked into knee-high, gold wedge-heeled boots. Her hands and arms were covered in gold fingerless opera gloves. Layered over the trousers at her waist were two shimmering cape skirts, the top layer brilliant gold, the one beneath silver. A delicate golden tiara, set with a single, deep blue sapphire in the center, rested on her brow. She looked every inch a warrior princess.

"Wow," breathed Megan, echoed by several others.

Diana chuckled. "Originally, Hephaestus forged it for me, and frankly, it was far more revealing. Hecate took one look at it and nearly throttled the God of the Forge for his impertinence. She redesigned it herself, adding considerable magical resilience and more modesty." Daphne examined herself, flexing her hands, clearly impressed by the weightless feel.

Next, Wonder Woman turned to Jason and Percy, producing two items. "Gifts, approved by Olympus," she stated. For Jason, she presented an Imperial gold gladius. "From Juno, to disguise it, think about flipping it like a coin." Diana explained. With a thought, Jason willed it to change and the gleaming sword shrank into a single gold coin bearing the profile of Julius Caesar and the inscription IVLIVS. 

For Percy, Diana offered a Celestial bronze xiphos, the blade glowing faintly. "From your father," she said simply. Percy grinned. Diana suggested he click the button on the bottom of the hilt. He did so and his sword transformed into a sleek, ordinary looking inkpen. "Both are balanced and enchanted to always return to your possession should they be lost or taken," Diana assured them.

Martian Manhunter then approached Dean, offering a sleek, folded bundle of black and white material. "Dean Thomas," J'onn J'onzz said, his voice calm and resonant. "Your unique phasing ability presents practical challenges. This biosynthetic jumpsuit is designed to bond with your unique energy signature. When you phase, it will phase with you, minimizing wardrobe malfunctions." Dean accepted it gratefully, remembering several embarrassing moments emerging from walls missing a shoe or with his pants left behind.

Green Arrow stepped up next, his usual jovial expression momentarily replaced with something more serious as he met Harry's eyes. "Okay, Harry," Ollie said, clapping him briefly on the shoulder before presenting a long, sleeveless robe of a deep, forest green material that seemed to subtly shift in the light. "Heard through the grapevine what those HYDRA scum labeled you 'Subject Emerald'." He grimaced, as he spat out the name of the organization. "Lousy name given by piece of shit losers. Time to take the 'Emerald' part back, twist it, make it something they learn to fear."

He handed the robe over to Harry. "Canary mentioned you favoring mobility and Zatara confirmed this material could take a serious hit, magical or otherwise. Fits the theme, yeah?" He grinned, his usual lightness returning slightly. "So, let's make it official. Fuck 'Subject'. From now on, you're the Emerald Warlock. Let HYDRA hear that and shit their pants."

Harry looked down at the robe, feeling its unexpected warmth and the magic humming within it. The idea of taking a designation forced on him by his captors and turning it into a symbol of power resonated deeply within him. He met Green Arrow's determined gaze, a flicker of surprise mingling with his usual sarcasm, but also a spark of fierce resolve igniting within him. "Emerald Warlock, huh?" he said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. "Thanks, Arrow." 

Batman then stepped forward. He presented Harry, Jason, Blaise, and Percy each with a form fitting black jumpsuit. Harry's had emerald green piping that matched his new robe, Jason's gold piping along the seams, Percy's bronze, and Blaise's dark purple. "Kryptonian fiber weave,  mixed with several other strong, lightweight and flexible materials," Batman stated flatly. "Resistant to most forms of energy and physical damage. Zatara has added spell-resistance enchantments as well."

Finally, Superman approached the Coven holding out small, discreet earpieces for each of them. "While you are not officially members of the Justice League," he said, his voice carrying its usual calm authority and warmth, "circumstances have made you allies and your unique knowledge may be invaluable in the future. These are linked to a secure League auxiliary channel. Should you find yourselves in a situation and require aid beyond your capabilities, do not hesitate to call upon us. We will answer."

A stunned silence fell over the room. Receiving League communicators was a sign of immense trust. Superboy looked particularly taken aback, a flash of envy and perhaps hurt crossing his face before Aqualad quietly steered him towards another room for a private word, averting a potential outburst.

Zatara was about to prepare a complex spell for a trans-Atlantic portal when Megan floated over to him. "Wait! Mr. Zatara, maybe we could take them?" she offered, gesturing towards the hangar. "The Bio-Ship can handle the trip easily and it could be our way of saying see you later?" Her hopeful expression was hard to refuse.

Zatara considered it, then smiled. "A generous suggestion, Miss Martian."

And so, four hours later, after the goodbyes and promises to keep in touch were exchanged, a vehicle resembling a recreational motorhome trundled quietly to a halt curbside on Dover Street in the heart of Mayfair. Inside the cleverly disguised Bio-Ship, Harry, Daphne, Blaise, Dean, Percy, Jason, and Sally peered out at the elegant, cream façade townhomes lining the street.

Harry slipped the velvet pouch he'd received from Rindjaw out of his pocket, retrieving the gold signet ring bearing the Potter crest. He slid it onto his finger, feeling a faint, almost imperceptible thrum of magic acknowledge him. With their shrunken belongings tucked securely away, the Coven and Sally disembarked from the motorhome/Bio-Ship onto the London pavement, Zatara joining them as the vehicle shimmered slightly and ascended silently, heading back across the Atlantic under Megan’s guidance.

Zatara and Harry led the group the short distance to Number Seven, Dover Street. It appeared as an elegant, well-maintained four-story home, indistinguishable to the mundane eye from its neighbors, yet humming with subtle magical wards that prickled Harry's senses now that he wore the Heir's ring.

Harry stepped forward and reached for the polished black door handle. As his fingers, adorned with the Potter ring, closed around the cool metal, he felt a distinct click resonate not just from the lock, but deep within the house's ancient wards, acknowledging his right to enter. He pushed the door open, stepping across the threshold and holding it for the others to follow him inside.

The first thing Harry noticed, echoed by the wide eyes of the others, was the impossible dimensions of the entry hall. It was vast, easily three times wider and significantly longer than the building's exterior footprint suggested, the ceiling soaring high to a magnificent crystal chandelier. Polished dark wood floors gleamed underfoot, reflecting the light. The walls were paneled in rich mahogany, adorned with numerous portraits whose subjects shifted, observed the newcomers with painted curiosity, or carried on silent conversations amongst themselves. Tasteful, antique furniture was arranged in conversation nooks, exuding an aura of understated elegance. Directly facing the entrance, above a grand fireplace, hung an empty, ornate portrait frame with a small brass plaque beneath it reading: Sebastian Potter, Paterfamilias Domus, 1682.

As they were taking it all in, a distinct pop echoed through the hall as a small creature appeared before them with a low bow. He was clearly a house elf, clad in a crisp, clean red devil colored uniform with a tuscany colored Potter crest embroidery on the chest. His large, tennis-ball eyes surveyed the group intelligently. "Welcome to Potter House, Heir Potter and guests," the elf squeaked, his voice strong and clear. "I am Gilly, Head Elf of the Potter Estate."

Before Harry could respond, Gilly snapped his fingers, a loud crack echoing in the large space. Instantly, eight other house elves apparate beside him in a neat row, three females (Blipsey, Tinky, Fleesy) and five male (Dimpey, Rakey, Rossy, Vailey, and Jesky), all bowing low. 

"My team, Heir Potter," Gilly announced proudly. "Together, we maintain Potter Manor, this townhouse and the other Potter properties and grounds."

"Er, hello Gilly, everyone," Harry managed, "It's nice to meet you. We have some belongings," He gestured vaguely towards their pockets where the shrunken boxes resided.

"Unnecessary for Master and guests to trouble themselves," Gilly stated firmly. "If Master and guests would place their shrunken items here," he indicated a nearby console table, "the elves will see them delivered to your chambers and unpacked immediately. We shall prepare the rooms forthwith."

Trusting the efficient creatures, they deposited their miniature moving boxes. "Now," Gilly continued briskly, "If Heir Potter and guests would follow Gilly, a brief tour is in order."

Gilly led them through the magically expanded townhouse, which felt more like a compact manor. He pointed out the ground floor's formal dining room, a formal receiving room for Apparition and Floo travel, a formal living room, one of the family rooms, two studies (one clearly the 'Lord's study'), and the entrance to a surprisingly large ballroom. Ascending a grand staircase, they saw doors leading to more studies, libraries (one formal, one family-oriented), another family room on the third floor, a conservatory that was currently lacking plants, and even a dedicated dueling chamber on a lower level. Gilly explained there were ten bedrooms spread across the upper floors, each with an ensuite bathing room. Higher still, on the fourth floor, was a small observatory.

"The family's private living quarters, dining room, library, and studies are located on the third and fourth floors," Gilly explained as the tour wound down near the upper staircase. "Access is restricted by wards to family and specifically authorized individuals only. The elves have prepared chambers for everyone." He indicated the layout: "Heir Potter's suite, the traditional Lord of the House's rooms, is on the third floor, along with suites prepared for Master Percy, and Master Blaise. Rooms for Master Dean, Mistress Daphne, Master Jason and Madam Sally are prepared on the fourth floor, near the observatory." He bowed again. "Should any adjustments be desired, decor, furnishings, amenities, simply call for one of us elves and it shall be done."

Harry smiled, impressed by the efficiency and the scale of the residence. "Excellent, Gilly. Thank you." 

Zatara turned to the group. "Alright everyone, settle in, get comfortable." He then looked specifically at Harry. "You and I have official business to attend to in the coming days. I must return to the States briefly, but I will be back here on the eighth for our visit to the Ministry of Magic to speak with the DMLE director and Mr. Bagman. Then, on the thirteenth, we need to be at Hogwarts for the Weighing of the Wands ceremony."

Harry nodded, though the thought of facing the Ministry and going to Hogwarts was daunting.

"Very good," Zatara said. "Enjoy settling in." With a nod to Gilly, the Head Elf personally escorted Zatara to the receiving room.

Ms. Sally, tired from the long day, retired to her room, saying she’d see them in the morning. The remaining six looked at each other before heading towards their rooms, discovering upon arrival that the house elves had already unpacked their belongings and neatly placed them in wardrobes and drawers.

A few hours later, having explored their individual suites and marveled again at the impossible dimensions of the house, everyone reconvened, drawn by the scent of freshly prepared food, in the informal family dining room located on the third floor. Lunch was served, and the conversations about their strange new life began.

London 

19:47, Nov 5th

Earlier in the day, Dean, Percy, and Sally had ventured out into the London streets. They'd navigated the tube and buses to Notting Hill, spending the afternoon with Dean's mother and his siblings. Now, returning just after seven in the evening, Dean was practically glowing, buzzing with the joy of reconnecting with the family he hadn’t seen in a few months. Sally, too, wore a warm, relaxed smile, having enjoyed meeting Ms.Thomas and already making plans to meet her later in the week, a promising start to building her own life in this new city. Percy had a good time as well, though a faint blush crept up his neck as his mom teased him about the unsubtle, wide eyed crush Dean’s fifteen year old sister had apparently developed on him.

While the others had explored the city, Harry, Jason, Daphne, and Blaise had spent most of the day sequestered in either of the townhouse’s libraries. Spread out across large mahogany tables were stacks of books on British Ministry law, wizarding etiquette and importantly, everything they could find on the Triwizard Tournament. Reading as much as they could still didn’t yield any new information about the binding magical contract Harry now found himself inexplicably bound by.

By ten, the townhouse quieted down. Everyone headed towards their respective rooms weary from either physical exploration or intense mental exertion. London settled into the deep quiet of late night.

Around midnight, however, Harry bolted upright in bed, a strange ripple washing over his senses. It wasn't like a Notice-me-not charm being applied or passing through a ward; it felt deeper, vaster, like the very fabric of magic itself had snagged and torn. Unease prickling his skin, he threw off the covers and ran to the large window overlooking Dover Street. The street below was eerily silent, devoid of any late night traffic. He opened the window and felt a gentle breeze caress his face. Then he heard it, a faint scream drifting down from the night sky.

Against the backdrop of London's cloudy night sky, a figure was tumbling through the air, falling fast. Without a conscious thought, Harry thrust his hand out the window, pointing at the falling figure. A bolt of green magic flew from his hand, surrounding the falling teen just moments before the roof of a building a few blocks away, slowing their descent dramatically for a survivable landing.

Heart pounding, Harry climbed out the window, the cool November air hitting his face. He flew up and landed on the roof of the townhouse. “Gilly!” he hissed into the air.

The Head Elf appeared instantly with a soft pop. "Master Harry called?"

Voice tight with urgency, Harry ordered, "Wake the others and bring the elves here to the roof immediately! Emergency!"

Gilly's large eyes widened further as he took in the scene, then he vanished with another sharp pop. Just as the elf disappeared, more screams echoed through the night air.  

"Harry! What in Merlin's name is going on?" Blaise materialized from a deep shadow pooling in the corner of the roof, his usual cool composure fractured by alarm.

Harry could only point upwards, already extending his hands, shooting cushioning and slowing charms, trying to catch as many as possible before they hit the rooftops and streets below.

As Dean, Daphne and Jason join them, they launch into a coordinated effort, using their powers and abilities to save more children plummeting from the sky in the vicinity.

A panicking Percy arrives and informs Harry and Blaise that Sally is missing. The others soon regroup on the roof and confirm that other children they’ve encountered are missing their parents, older siblings or other adults.

On the spot they quickly devise a strategy, designating Regents Park as a central safe zone for rescued children. Harry tasks the elves to transport any found children to Regents Park. For younger children rescued from homes, the elves are also instructed to leave notes for the, currently, absent parents informing them of their children's whereabouts.

three females (Blipsey, Tinky, Fleesy) and five male (Dimpey, Rakey, Rossy, Vailey, and Jesky

Percy, anxious for his mother but understanding the need for action, goes with Daphne and three of the elves, Rossy, Tinky and Fleesy, to set up and manage the influx of children at Regents Park. Dean and Jason depart, with Blipsey, Jesky and Dimpey, to check on Dean's family, then begin a wider sweep to the west. Harry and Blaise remain with Gilly, Rakey and Vailey to cover surrounding areas east of the house.

Dean contacts Robin via the League communicator. Robin explains the situation is a global crisis. Some type of magical event has split the world into two dimensions, one for adults and one for those under eighteen. He tells Dean that Zatanna is working on a locator spell to find the source and advises the Coven to focus on local efforts as the Team and Zatanna are going to try and stop the split.

The Coven worked tirelessly through the long, strange hours of the night. In Regents Park, Daphne established a large perimeter, weaving subtle warming charms into the air to combat the November chill, while she and Percy, with the help of older rescued teenagers, managed and calmed the hundreds of children brought there by the elves. 

Harry, Blaise, Dean, and Jason continue their rescue efforts across different parts of London, with the elves providing crucial support in transporting children and placing sleeping spells on the youngest or most distressed. They are aided by the news, relayed by Blaise who was rescuing a toddler from an empty house, that the Team is broadcasting emergency messages on the internet and tv, urging children to stay calm and help each other out. Seeing the faces of the teenage proteges helps reduce widespread panic.

Several hours later, while Harry and Blaise are taking a brief moment in Regents Park with Daphne and Percy, Harry feels another magical ripple. A moment later, standing bewildered just a few yards away, blinking under the park lights, was a uniformed Metropolitan Police officer. 

"What in God's name?" the officer stammers, staring at the massive, impossible gathering of unaccompanied minors. "Where did you all come from? What's going on here?"

“I think whatever the Team did worked! Adults are back!" Jason's voice says over the comms. Jason immediately contacts the League for an update on the situation.

 Daphne and Harry quickly explain the circumstances to the confused but grateful officer, who radios for backup. Within minutes, the news seemed to explode across emergency channels. More police cars began arriving, sirens muted initially as they assessed the situation, quickly establishing checkpoints at the park entrances. Officers, guided by the older teens Percy had organized, began the overwhelming but necessary process of coordinating reunification efforts as frantic parents begin arriving at the park.

With the authorities taking charge, the exhausted Coven members and the house elves extract themselves. The elves pop away quietly, while Blaise shadow travels the others back to the townhouse, where they are met with immense relief by the sight of Sally Jackson, safe, sound and understandably shaken. They rush to embrace her, the shared relief palpable among the group after a long and terrifying night.

It wasn’t until later in the day, that the true cost of victory was made known to them. Aquaman delivered the news; that Giovanni Zatara was now bound to be the new Dr. Fate. Zatanna had made a courageous decision to don the powerful Helmet of Fate to take on Klarion, the one who had caused the dimensional rift. However, her selfless act had severe consequences. Nabu, the Lord of Order who inhabited and empowered the helmet, refused to relinquish Zatanna, claiming that she would be a magically potent host.

To secure his daughter's release from the Helmet, Giovanni made an immense sacrifice. He willingly traded his own freedom for his daughter's, accepting the mantle of Doctor Fate and becoming the new host for Nabu. While the immediate crisis was averted and a significant victory was achieved, Zatanna, the League and the Coven all mourned the loss of Giovanni's autonomy and an uncertain future without his guidance.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Gilly presented Harry with a set of simple, elegant black robes, embroidered with the crest of the Most Ancient & Noble House of Potter on the left side of his chest, explaining that these were considered appropriate attire for conducting official business at the Ministry. Daphne and Blaise had been offered similar robes, though without any house badges; Daphne could not yet claim to be Heiress Greengrass, and Blaise opted to avoid declaring himself as Heir Zabini.

Having done some preliminary research on the British Ministry of Magic, thanks to the townhouse’s extensive libraries, Harry had initially glamoured his clothes to appear as normal, mundane attire, anticipating a thirty minute walk through mundane London to the visitor’s entrance in Whitehall. He stood in the entrance hall with Jason, Dean, and Percy, waiting for Daphne and Blaise to arrive, ready to depart for the Ministry, when the air shimmered.

A golden Ankh, glowing with power that hummed against Harry's senses, materialized a few feet from the door of the house. Dr. Fate, his golden helmet gleaming, floated through the portal.

"Harry Potter," the multi-layered voice of Nabu echoed through the hall, "At the insistence of Zatara, I am here to escort you to the Ministry of Magic."

Harry was momentarily taken aback by the sudden appearance and the absence of Zatara himself. "Thank you, Dr. Fate," he replied, recovering quickly, "Although, we were hoping that Giovanni would be able to accompany us personally?"

Dr. Fate paused, a moment of silence before that complex voice answered. "I am certain you will be able to handle the upcoming meeting without Zatara’s direct presence. Simply hand over the letter that Zatara entrusted to you for this occasion. Now, if you are ready?"

Harry glanced to the stairs as Daphne and Blaise descended, clad in their black robes, looking equally surprised but composed. They both indicated their readiness, a nod from Daphne and a thumbs up from Blaise. Harry turned back to Dr. Fate. "We're ready."

With a flick of his wrist, Fate conjured another, identical golden Ankh portal. It shimmered invitingly beside the first one. Fate gestured for them to step through the newly created golden portal.

Before they could move, Dean, Jason, and Percy stepped forward. "Good luck, you guys," Dean said sincerely, offering a warm smile. Jason gave a firm, encouraging nod. "You can handle whatever they throw at you," he advised with quiet confidence. Percy grinned. "Yeah, don't let those stuffy types push you around. We'll keep an eye on things here with mom."

Sally appeared at the top of the staircase. She smiled down at Harry, Daphne, and Blaise, who stood by the portal. "Wishing you all the very best at the Ministry," she called out, her voice reassuring. "Don't worry about anything here. Gilly and I will make sure there's a lovely hot meal ready for you when you return and make sure these three keep out of trouble."

Harry offered Sally a grateful smile, the simple promise of her comforting presence and food a small anchor in the daunting prospect ahead. "Thanks, Sally. We appreciate that."

Daphne, ever composed, stepped forward first. As she neared the shimmering Ankh, Dr. Fate's helmeted head turned towards her, the golden surface unreadable. "Daphne Greengrass," the layered voice intoned, "You possess a strong aura of Order around you. In a few years, with maturity and further development of your innate abilities, you may make for a perfect host for a Lord of Order."

Daphne paused at the portal's edge, frowning as she looked up and down at the imposing figure of Dr. Fate, her dislike for what he represented evident. "No thanks," she stated coolly, her voice laced with disdain. "I quite enjoy having my own autonomy, thank you very much. It's bad enough you've already taken Giovanni, and now you're casually making plans to throw him away like an empty soda can when a 'better' option comes along?" A smirk of approval stretched across Blaise’s lips at Daphne’s words.

A distinct wave of irritation flooded Fate's layered voice, making the air around him seem to crackle slightly. "I did not mean a host for me, girl," he retorted sharply. "Zatara's disciplined mind and powerful magical body can withstand my presence for many years. His sacrifice will not be in vain; his daughter will grow up in a world made safer because Doctor Fate is here to maintain the balance against the encroaching Chaos." He seemed to loom slightly, an almost palpable pressure emanating from him. "And I am not the only Lord of Order who exists on this plane or others. Perhaps you may find another, if they do not find you first."

Daphne scoffed, a small, derisive sound, clearly unconvinced and unimpressed. But before she could formulate a cutting reply, Dr. Fate, with a final look that lingered on her for a moment, turned and drifted silently through the other golden Ankh, the one he had arrived through. It winked out of existence as soon as he passed through it. The portal meant for them remained open, pulsing softly, waiting.

Harry and Blaise exchanged uneasy glances at the pointed exchange. Daphne, after a moment, squared her shoulders, her expression firm, and stepped resolutely through the remaining archway. Harry and Blaise quickly followed.

Ministry of Magic  

Department of Magical Games & Sports Office

07:35, Nov 8th

To Harry, the transition was almost anticlimactic; it felt like walking through an archway from one room into another. One moment, he, Daphne, and Blaise stood in the familiar entryway of Potter Townhouse, and the next, they found themselves in a brightly lit, somewhat cluttered office. The portal behind them vanished as silently as Dr. Fate had.

The room was furnished with a large, oak desk, two comfortable-looking chairs positioned in front of it, and tall, overflowing shelves crammed with Quidditch trophies, signed sports memorabilia, and stacks of what looked like official Ministry paperwork. The nameplate on the desk, done in elegant black with gold lettering, read: Director L. Bagman.

The most striking feature of the office, however, was the sheer number of photographs and moving portraits adorning the walls. The vast majority of the pictures featured the same individual: a hefty, blonde man with surprisingly bright blue eyes. Most of the pictures showed him flying high on a broomstick, swinging a bat at a chaser, or smiling and waving at the camera. There were a few with him and what Harry assumed were his old Quidditch teammates, and even three portraits of them celebrating a win, toasting invisible drinks. Oddly, one of the larger pictures in the room, positioned directly behind the desk, was just a blank canvas, an empty frame staring silently at them.

"Well," Harry said, breaking the silence, looking around the room, "since no one seems to be here yet, perhaps we should just sit and wait?" He gestured towards the comfortable chairs.

Daphne and Blaise exchanged a glance and a slight shrug. “Fate dropped us here for a reason,” Blaise commented, taking a seat in the chair nearest the desk, a look of surprised comfort spreading across his face. “Perhaps this is where we’re meant to be.”

Daphne blinked slowly, and then, a faint but familiar sensation brushed the edges of Harry and Blaise's minds – the telltale sign of Daphne creating a discreet psychic link. “We need to be careful what we say out loud here. Remember those portraits can hear and speak, even travel between frames. I suspect that's why the one behind the desk is empty right now."

Daphne moved towards the overflowing shelves, carefully inspecting the trophies and memorabilia without actually touching anything. Blaise leaned back in his chair, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “This chair is really comfortable,” he said aloud, a touch of wonder in his voice. “Like it doesn’t feel at all like what it looks like.”

Intrigued, Harry moved to the other chair and sat down. He smiled as he settled back, feeling as if he were sinking into a cloud, the deceptively sturdy wooden frame somehow offering an almost impossibly luxurious level of support. On a nearby table was a stack of newspapers and magazines. Harry reached over and grabbed a magazine, Witch Weekly!, with the words ‘Lady Downwinter takes on Dimensional Disruption & MACUSA!’. 

Turning to the centerfold, there was a picture of Klarion the Witch Boy, kneeling in the center of a blurred out runic circle, being contained by a golden ankh. As Klarion snaps the fingers of his left hand the ankh begins to fade away. Klarion then disappears in a flash of red light, then image then appears to reset with the Witch Boy once again contained by the ankh.

 “Listen to this,” Harry read aloud. 

Dearest Readers,

Wizarding society has weathered storms of scandal and intrigue aplenty, but I daresay, none so… dimensionally disruptive as the recent unpleasantness orchestrated by a certain Klarion, most unfortunately nicknamed the "Witch Boy." One shudders to even utter the moniker. It appears this impudent juvenile, with the assistance of a coterie of rather unrefined magical sorts – Wotan, Felix Faust, a individual named "Wizard" (truly uninspired) and the rest of his ill-mannered ensemble – decided to throw London, and indeed the world, into utter chaos.

Imagine, if you will, the utter fright as reports reached my ears of a peculiar… thinning of reality itself! One moment, one was discussing the latest fashions from Paris at tea, the next, whispers carried on the wind spoke of… children vanishing. Yes, dearest readers, vanished! As if snatched away by some particularly uncouth House elf – or worse, a Muggle contrivance gone awry!

The epicenter of this dimensional discombobulation, I am reliably informed, was none other than Roanoke Island. Roanoke! The very name conjures tales of disappearances and mysteries most unsuitable for polite conversation. Truly, the Witch Boy and his cohorts possess a most vulgar taste in dramatic staging.

But fear not, for just as society always finds a way to right itself after even the most scandalous of seasons, so too did order, of a sort, emerge from this magical melee. Enter, with a flourish and, dare I say, a rather gaudy display of athleticism, the so-called "Justice League." These paragons of, shall we say, Muggle virtue, with their penchant for tight-fitting costumes and rather alarming displays of strength (most unrefined, truly), took it upon themselves to intervene.

One hears tales of bright lights the muggles call lasers, crashing boulders, explosions (oh, the noise!), and a general lack of decorum that would make even the most avant-garde debutante blush. Yet, credit where credit is due, the Justice League, with their decidedly unusual methods, reportedly put an end to young Master Klarion’s dimensional games. The children, bless their innocent hearts, were returned and the adults to mop their brows and straighten their bonnets, could breathe a collective sigh of relief.

However, dearest readers, do not mistake a return to normalcy for a return to comfort. For this… incident, if one can call a dimensional rift merely an incident, has laid bare some rather uncomfortable truths.

Firstly, the blatant disregard for secrecy displayed by Klarion and his motley crew is simply unforgivable. These rogue sorcerers, reveling in chaos and quite possibly, publicity, threaten the very foundations of our discreet existence. Imagine the scandal should Muggles truly understand the magical currents that flow beneath their oblivious feet!

Secondly, and perhaps even more disturbingly, the intervention of these Muggle "heroes" raises some rather pertinent questions. Are we, the discreet and discerning members of magical society, now reliant on the… caprices of Muggles to safeguard our world? It is a thought most unsettling.

And speaking of unsettling thoughts, whispers from across the pond – carried, no doubt, on transatlantic galleons laden with gossip as much as goods – speak of truly scandalous developments in MACUSA. Apparently, that organization, never known for its subtlety, has not only endorsed this Justice League, but has gone so far as to appoint a Muggle "ambassador," a certain Giovanni Zatara. Ambassador! To Muggles! The sheer effrontery!

But the true pièce de résistance of this transatlantic tale of impropriety is the alleged elevation of Muggles to positions of… magical authority. Rumor has it that MACUSA, in a move that smacks of desperation, or perhaps utter madness, has named not one, but two Muggles as "Sorcerer Supreme"! Dr. Fate, a Justice League… showman, and Dr. Steven Strange, a previous Muggle physician – both lauded with a title that should be reserved for witches and wizards of true lineage and dedication. One almost expects MACUSA to crown a corgi as Minister of Magic next!

And what, one might ask, of the esteemed International Confederation of Wizards? Silence. A silence as deafening as a ballroom emptied after a particularly scandalous revelation. Is the ICW paralyzed by disbelief? Or worse, complicit in this transatlantic descent into magical vulgarity?

And our own Supreme Mugwump, the venerable Albus Dumbledore? Notably quiet. Has the usually loquacious Headmaster finally found himself speechless in the face of such… unprecedented developments? One recalls his rather… earnest pronouncements on Muggle acceptance. Has the emergence of these Muggle "superheroes," and the frankly baffling actions of MACUSA, finally given even Mr. Dumbledore pause?

Perhaps, in the face of such external threats – both magical and Muggle – and the internal discord within our own world, even the most forward-thinking members of society are beginning to reconsider their positions. Whispers suggest a certain Lord Malfoy and Mr. Dumbledore may have, dare I say it, exchanged words. Could this dimensional disaster, and the ensuing transatlantic chaos, forge alliances in the most unexpected of quarters?

Wizarding society, ever resilient, will no doubt recover from this dimensional hiccup. Teacups will clink once more, cauldron bottoms will be debated, and scandalous whispers will continue to circulate. But let us not forget the lessons learned from this chaotic episode. The threat of rogue magicians is real, the rise of Muggle influence is undeniable, and the state of international wizarding affairs is, shall we say, precarious.

The question remains, dearest readers, not just whether we have survived this chaos, but what society shall become in its wake. Will we unite in the face of these unprecedented challenges, or will we succumb to division and discord, leaving ourselves vulnerable to further disturbances and the ever-watchful eyes of the Muggle world? Only time, and a considerable amount of astute observation, will tell.

Yours in anticipation of the next scandal,

Lady Downwinter

“Does this writer think that Klarion could have been defeated by MACUSA?” Daphne asked, her eyebrows nearly in her hairline. 

Blaise snorted, “If she does, she needs to get a mental examination. The Justice League had a hard time taking him down, and that was even with Shazam and both Zataras being there.” 

“I wonder what she would have written if the League had not intervened, MACUSA got involved and Klarion slaughtered their Hit Wizards.” 

“Probably, crucified the DMLE and wondering why the ICW were-” 

“Someone's coming,” Daphne's voice warned over their mental link.

The heavy oak door to the office swung open a few seconds later, revealing a hefty-sized blonde man with sweat beading on his brow and a vaguely flustered expression. He wore the bright yellow robes designed similarly to Quidditch robes, though they were more business focused, seemingly reliving his past even now, years later, as a Ministry employee. 

"Who are you and how did you get into this office?" he wheezed, his blue eyes darting suspiciously between the three teenagers. 

"Good morning, are you Director Bagman?" Harry greeted, rising from his impossibly comfortable chair, his tone polite but firm. Daphne turned to face the man, her expression carefully neutral, while Blaise remained seated, crossing one leg over his knee, his gaze fixed on Bagman with a distinct air of unimpressed scrutiny.

"Yes, I am Director Bagman," he confirmed, his eyes still narrowed and suspicious. He repeated his question, voice still wheezing slightly from his hurried arrival, as he pulled out his wand, its tip wavering in their direction. "Again, who are you and how did you get in here?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, his own demeanor calm despite the wand pointed erratically towards them. "Well, that's rather rude, Director," Harry observed, "pulling a wand on the person you summoned." He reached into the inner pocket of his black robes and retrieved a letter, the one bearing a Ministry seal. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory." Harry held up the letter so Bagman could clearly see the Ministry insignia and his own signature at the bottom.

Bagman's eyes squinted at the letter then widened abruptly as recognition flashed across his ruddy face. He paled considerably, his wand arm slowly lowering as if the strength had suddenly drained from it. "Merlin's beard," he stammered, his gaze flicking involuntarily up towards Harry's forehead. Harry's fringe, thankfully, obscured his scar from view. "Are y- are you really Harry Potter?"

"I am," Harry confirmed, his expression unreadable.

Abruptly, Bagman seemed to recover some of his composure, though a new, nervous energy now animated him. He bustled to shut the office door, then turned back, wiping a sweaty palm on his bright yellow Quidditch robes before stretching out his hand towards Harry with an overly enthusiastic grin. "Mr. Potter! Astonishing! Truly!"

“Clear to see he doesn't honor the Great Houses' ranking structure,” Blaise’s mental voice was laced with disdain. “Otherwise, he would have waited for you, as Heir Potter, to initiate the handshake.”

“Blaise is right,” Daphne added, her mental tone coolly analytical and equally disapproving of the breach in etiquette. “Not to mention it's his first time meeting you in person. He should allow you, the one with higher standing, to make the first move.”

Harry mentally sighed. The intricacies of pureblood customs were still something he was learning. “True, but in his defense, we did appear rather suddenly in his secured office, unannounced today.”

“We had no choice where Fate landed us,” Daphne corrected, her mental voice firm. “Now, make a decision. Bagman is looking at you rather oddly while you deliberate with us.”

Indeed, Bagman’s hand still hung in the air, his smile strained and beginning to falter under their silent scrutiny. Shaking off the mental debate, Harry reached out and grasped the Director's extended hand. "Heir Hadrian James, of the Most Ancient & Most Noble House of Potter," Harry stated clearly and formally, his grip firm, not releasing Bagman's slightly damp hand until he had finished his full title, a subtle reminder of his standing.

"Ah, yes! Mr. Potter! A pleasure, a distinct pleasure to meet you," Bagman gushed, retracting his hand, which he surreptitiously wiped again on his robes. "Though a pity, of course, under such, ah, dramatic circumstances regarding the Tournament." He scurried around to stand behind his large oak desk and took a seat, gesturing somewhat grandly for them to do the same in the chairs. He quickly flicked his wand and a third chair appeared on Harry’s left side, which Daphne moved to sit in.

Harry could practically feel the frown forming on Blaise’s brow at Bagman’s continued lack of proper deference even after the formal introduction."

“Stop frowning, Blaise,” Harry thought in the mental link, trying to inject a bit of levity into the otherwise tense situation, “or you’ll get permanent lines and look like a old man before you’re twenty.”

Daphne, seated beside Harry, gave a light, almost inaudible cough to cover the smile that touched her lips at the unexpected reference. Blaise’s eyes flared momentarily in surprise, perhaps at the thought, though his forehead did indeed smooth out, his expression returning to one of cool neutrality.

Bagman cleared his throat, shuffling some papers on his desk with an air of forced importance. "Now, Mr. Potter, as you have my letter, you understand the basics of the unfortunate and unprecedented situation we find ourselves in." He leaned forward, attempting a confidential tone. "I'm very sorry to say that despite our best efforts and round-the-clock investigations, we haven't yet uncovered the individual who entered your name into the Goblet of Fire."

He lowered his voice further. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under the very capable Director Amelia Bones, was able to determine that the ancient runic matrix guiding the Goblet's decision-making process was tampered with. I don't pretend to understand all the technical specifics, not my department of expertise you see, but they informed me it was the magical equivalent of hitting the Goblet with about a hundred Confundus Charms. Quite a feat of complex magic, that. Highly illegal, naturally."

Bagman brightened slightly, as if offering a consolation prize. "If you like, I can arrange for you to meet with Madam Bones herself. She can give you a full, detailed rundown of their findings so far. Very thorough, Amelia is, very by-the-book as they say."

Harry considered it for a moment. Dealing with the Head of the DMLE was probably inevitable, but he needed to understand his immediate predicament first. "Thank you, Director. That might be useful at a later date." He leaned forward slightly himself, his voice calm but firm. "What I'd primarily like to know right now is: what exactly does this magical contract with the Goblet entail for me? Does it mean I have to actively attempt and complete each task to the very best of my ability, risking my life and limbs? Or," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "would simply showing up, making a token effort or perhaps even spectating from the sidelines, satisfy the magical binding?"

The forced joviality instantly vanished from Bagman's face. He looked down at his hands, which were clasped tightly on his polished oak desk, his earlier confidence deflating like a punctured Quaffle. "Ah," he began, his voice losing its bluster, becoming reedy and uncertain. "Yes. The contract. The magical binding." He avoided Harry's direct gaze, instead focusing on a rather uninteresting inkwell.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Potter... that is, we... the truth is," he finally looked up, his expression grim and unhelpful, "we have no definitive idea what the magical contract will demand of an unwilling and unexpectedly added fourth champion. It's simply never happened before." He spread his hands helplessly. "The enchantments are ancient, incredibly powerful, and not fully understood even by our foremost magical theorists and curse-breakers. The best advice I, and indeed the entire International Tournament Committee, can offer at this juncture is to approach the Tournament with the utmost seriousness. Participate genuinely, strive to succeed in each task presented. That way," he finished lamely, a sheen of sweat now clearly visible on his brow again, "the magic... ah... will hopefully have no reason to lash out at you for non-compliance or perceived contractual breach."

Harry listened intently, his expression growing more serious with Bagman's every word. The man was essentially admitting the Ministry had no real answers, only hopeful platitudes. This was not reassuring. 

"With all due respect, Director," Harry said, his voice even, "that sounds like you're telling me to just hope for the best. Given the ancient object involved, that's not much of a strategy." He leaned forward slightly. "Have you, or the committee, considered consulting other experts? Specifically, Dr. Fate or Dr. Strange? My understanding is that both have been officially designated as a Sorcerer Supreme by MACUSA, a decision that has not, to my knowledge, been challenged by the International Confederation of Wizards. Both are known to be guardians of old and powerful magical objects. Both are known to study the esoteric. I’d say that someone meddling with the enchantment and runic makeup of an ancient magical item, qualifies as a reason to get their opinion."

Bagman blinked, his already flustered expression tightening at the mention of those names. The MACUSA appointments of Zatara as an ambassador and, even more controversially, Doctors Fate and Strange as "Sorcerers Supreme," had indeed made the papers – Rita Skeeter had had a field day, not mention whomever that Lady Downwinter character is. Plus the more conservative pureblood families had publicly decried the Americans' perceived recklessness in elevating individuals known for their close, even collaborative, ties with Muggles and their costumed organizations. To suggest consulting them on a matter of ancient European magical tradition, here in the British Ministry, was treading on delicate political ground for a man like Bagman, who valued his comfortable position.

He gave a dismissive little cough, waving his hand vaguely as if shooing away an unpleasant insect. "Ah, yes, the, ah... American appointments," he said, his tone attempting a dismissive lightness but laced with a clear desire to sidestep the topic entirely. "Quite the stir they caused in certain circles, quite the stir. But you must understand, Potter," he adopted a slightly patronizing air, "the Triwizard Tournament operates under ancient, European magical traditions and, of course, ICW-sanctioned oversight by the Ministries who's territory the schools occupy. We have our own highly qualified experts, our own Unspeakables who delve into such mysteries, our own, established methods." He puffed himself up slightly, as if the collective prestige of the British Ministry rested solely on his shoulders. "We certainly wouldn't want to cause any unnecessary inter-jurisdictional complications or, heaven forbid, appear as if we can't manage our own affairs right here in Britain, now would we?"

He quickly shuffled the papers on his desk again, eager to change the subject. "Besides," he added with an air of finality, "the Goblet's magic is unique to this specific tournament, its origins deeply embedded in our magical history, dating back centuries. Consulting... outsiders, especially those with such unconventional associations, would be highly irregular and, frankly, unlikely to yield any results pertinent to this specific binding contract. Best to keep things in-house, eh?"

Daphne and Blaise exchanged a subtle glance. Bagman's politically motivated dismissal of consulting two of the most powerful magic-users on the planet, individuals whose understanding of old magic likely far surpassed anyone in the British Ministry, was exactly what they'd expect from a man more concerned with appearances and maintaining the status quo than finding effective, or even innovative, solutions. Harry, too, recognized the deflection for what it was – fear of upsetting the established hierarchy. It was clear Bagman would offer no real help beyond toeing the official, unhelpful line.

They continued to politely but firmly prod Bagman for a few more moments, attempting to get him to consider alternatives or offer more concrete assurances regarding Harry's safety and the contract. Bagman, however, only grew more flustered, stammering about the sanctity of Ministry procedures, the unique nature of ancient magical tradition, and the importance of not "rocking the boat." He was clearly unwilling or unable to deviate from his script or offer any proactive assistance beyond vague warnings.

Harry sat back in his chair, observing Bagman's evasiveness and political maneuvering for a moment. It was evident they would get no further useful information or genuine help from the Director. He'd hoped for more, for some reassurance or a plan, but it seemed Bagman was more concerned with maintaining the Ministry line. In fact, this was likely just Bagman doing the bidding of the person at the top of the magical food chain, so to speak. Realizing this, Harry decided it was time to shift the conversation to terms he could control. He reached into his robes again.

"Director," Harry interrupted, his voice calm but carrying an unexpected authority that cut through Bagman's blustering excuses, causing the man to stop mid-sentence and blink at him. "I believe this particular line of conversation regarding the contract's interpretation has reached its end for now. However, before we conclude our business for today, allow me to give you some information of my own." This time, he retrieved a different letter, sealed with an elegant, unfamiliar crest depicting a stylized raven perched on a crescent moon.

"Per Section Three, Paragraph Five of The Official Handbook of Triwizard Procedures and Protocols," Harry stated, his tone precise as if quoting directly from memory, his gaze steady on the now bewildered Bagman, "'Each champion is to represent one officially sanctioned magical school of learning, and no single school shall be permitted to have more than one champion competing in any given Triwizard Tournament.'" He let the words hang in the air for a moment. "Therefore, Director, to ensure my participation is in full compliance with the established rules, especially given this unprecedented situation of a fourth champion from an unsanctioned entry, I will be competing under the banner of The Shadowcrest Conservatory of Magic."

He leaned forward and placed the official-looking letter on Bagman's desk. "The Headmaster of Shadowcrest, Ambassador Giovanni Zatara, has prepared this letter to formally advise you of my enrollment and of the representatives he will be sending to liaise with the Ministry and Tournament officials on his behalf, given his current... extensive and unavoidable commitments with MACUSA and the Justice League." Harry sat back in his chair, his expression calm, watching Bagman.

Bagman stared at the letter as if it were a venomous serpent, then shakily picked it up and broke the unfamiliar seal. His eyes scanned the contents, his face paling further with each elegantly penned line. When he finally looked up at Harry, his expression was a mixture of profound shock, dawning panic, and perhaps a touch of grudging respect for the maneuver. "I... I see," he managed, his voice a mere croak. "The Shadowcrest Conservatory of Magic... yes. Of course." He swallowed hard. "Well. I suppose I'll have to inform Headmaster Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, and indeed Headmaster Dumbledore that you won't be... ah... enrolling at any of their respective institutions after all."

"Wait a minute," Blaise interjected sharply, his cool demeanor cracking to reveal a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forward, pinning Bagman with his gaze. "Your wording, Director. 'You won't be enrolling.' Are you implying, then, that you were aware that the Heads of Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts were all actively attempting to recruit Heir Potter to join their schools for the Tournament?" His voice was dangerously soft, yet it sliced through the room's tension. "An act which would have been an obvious, blatant violation of the very Handbook you champion, giving one school an undeniably unfair advantage with two champions, while simultaneously denying another legitimate magical institution – in this case, Shadowcrest – its rightful place and potentially endangering Heir Potter by forcing him into a non-compliant position?"

What?!" Bagman exclaimed, his eyes darting between the three teenagers as he fidgeted in his ornate chair, clearly caught off guard and flustered by Blaise's accusation. He seemed to shrink under Blaise's pointed stare. "No! No, that's not it at all! Simply that, on the night the Champions were selected, and indeed thereafter, the issue of Potter's –"

"That will be Heir Potter to you, Director," Blaise cut him off smoothly, though his eyes held a dangerous glint. "Heir Potter introduced himself to you by his title. It is a matter of proper respect, which you seem to be overlooking with increasing frequency throughout this conversation."

Harry mentally winced, “Blaise, ease up, we need information, not a duel over etiquette just yet,” though his outward expression remained neutral, his gaze fixed coolly on Bagman, waiting for the man to dig himself out of the hole he was currently residing in.

"F-forgive me," Bagman stammered, mopping his brow with a slightly grubby handkerchief he produced from the sleeve of his bright yellow robes. "Heir Potter. Yes. Of course. My apologies, Zabini." He took a shaky breath. "As I was saying, Heir Potter, on the night your name unfortunately emerged from the Goblet, and during several subsequent emergency meetings of the Triwizard Committee, the question of which school you would officially compete under was... a significant point of discussion, yes."

He shifted uncomfortably under their combined scrutiny. "Some members of the committee, naturally, assumed you'd participate under the Hogwarts banner, given your, ah, prior connections and your parents' history there. However," he leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a more gossipy, conspiratorial tone, "the Minister of Magic for France, Monsieur Delacour, rather forcefully suggested that since you hadn't actually attended Hogwarts for several years, and were, in essence, a free agent, perhaps you might like to compete for, and then potentially finish your magical education at, either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. He was quite insistent and instructed Madam Maxime to extend a formal invitation on behalf of Beauxbatons, should you be amenable."

Bagman paused, then added with a nervous chuckle, "Of course, Headmaster Karkaroff immediately declared that it would only be fair for Durmstrang to be permitted to send an invitation as well, if Beauxbatons and Hogwarts were to be allowed to make such offers. Between you and me," he winked, completely missing the icy glares from Daphne and Blaise, "I think he rather fancies that Durmstrang's only chance of finally winning a tournament might be if they somehow managed to field two champions. They've never actually won one in the entire history of the Triwizard, you know. Always the bridesmaid, Durmstrang."

"So, the answer to the question is, unequivocally, yes," Daphne snapped, her patience clearly shredded as she cut off Bagman's gossipy tale. "You were fully aware that all three schools were attempting to recruit Heir Potter, in direct contravention of the Tournament's foundational rules regarding one champion per school."

Bagman looked at her, his face paling again as he realized he'd thoroughly incriminated himself and the committee. "I- I'm sorry, I misspoke, I simply meant to explain the complexities... the political reasonings..."

Harry now interrupted, his voice calm but carrying a distinct edge of disappointment and newfound resolve that silenced Bagman's pathetic excuses. "You know, Director," he began, "this conversation has been... illuminating. It has shown me quite clearly that the magical governments involved, or at least their representatives on the Triwizard Committee, do not seem overly concerned with my well-being, nor, it appears, with the established rules designed to ensure fairness and safety. Why else would they even entertain the idea of violating a fundamental rule in the very Handbook that provides the outline for this Tournament?" He shook his head slightly, a gesture of profound disillusionment.

"Be that as it may," Harry continued, his tone becoming brisk and businesslike, "I have made my decision and it is final. I will be competing as a student of the Shadowcrest Conservatory of Magic, as per the official notification from Headmaster Zatara, which you now possess." He leaned forward slightly. "Now, Director, do you have any information about what events are scheduled for the Tournament, and more importantly, when they are scheduled to happen?"

"Ah! Yes, yes, the schedule!" Bagman exclaimed, visibly relieved to be on safer, more procedural ground, and began frantically hunting through the chaotic pile of parchment on his desk. When he finally located the one he was looking for, he smoothed it out, looked it over briefly as if reacquainting himself with it, then passed it across the desk to Harry.

"Now, as you know, there are three major tasks that are essential to the Tournament," Bagman explained, pointing to the relevant sections with a slightly trembling finger. "The first task will be on November 24th, commencing at nine a.m. sharp. The second task takes place on February 24th, starting at noon. And the third and final task will be on June 24th, beginning at three p.m. As you can see on this official schedule, those dates and times are all written in gold ink."

He continued, tapping other sections of the parchment. "In addition, there are also a series of 'mini-tasks' that will take place in the months between the main tasks. Originally, with three schools, there were to be eight – each school getting two days to execute mini tasks between the main tasks, and two mini-tasks crafted by the Triwizard Committee. Now, Shadowcrest will have to be added into the mix," he gave a weak smile, "it will likely be ten mini-tasks in total, still two per school." He beamed as if this were a brilliant solution he'd devised himself.

"There is also the Yule Ball," Bagman added, his eyes twinkling with a hint of his earlier enthusiasm. "A traditional and rather splendid part of the Tournament, which will take place during the Christmas holidays. Attendance is mandatory for champions, and it's open to all students aged fourteen and up. A grand affair!"

He scanned the parchment one last time. "Ah, and most pressingly, on the thirteenth of this month – that's just five days from now – the Weighing of the Wands ceremony will take place at Hogwarts. All four champions must be present. I would ask that you arrive at Hogwarts Castle well before the designated start of the ceremony to meet with the other champions and officials."

Harry inclined his head, taking the offered schedule and perusing it briefly. "Thank you for your assistance, Director Bagman. If that is all for today, we will be taking our leave now."

Standing from their chairs, the three teenagers rose in unison. They each each drew up the hoods of their black robes, obscuring their faces once more as they prepared to depart, a subtle reminder of their desire for discretion.

Bagman stood, still sweating slightly and looking profoundly nervous. The last thing he wanted was for Harry Potter to be mobbed by reporters or intercepted by nosy Ministry officials leaving his office. He cleared his throat, forcing a wobbly smile. "Ah, yes, well, before you, ah, step out, the main corridors and the Atrium can be rather… chaotic this time of the day. Full of eager ears, if you take my meaning." He wrung his hands. "To avoid any unnecessary attention or delays, perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the visitor’s entrance via a more discreet route? As a small token of my desire to smooth things over." His eyes darted towards the door, clearly anxious to manage their exit personally and prevent any unforeseen spectacles.

As Bagman finished his offer, his eyes flitting nervously between them with a hopeful, almost desperate look, Daphne's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. With a subtle mental push, she brushed against the surface of Bagman's mind. It was, as she suspected, a chaotic jumble of self-preservation and fear of scandal, her observation entirely unnoticeable to the oblivious Director.

“He’s terrified,” her mental voice reached Harry and Blaise, cutting through Bagman’s superficial pleasantries. “Partly of us. He’s desperate to avoid us running into any members of the press in the Atrium. He’s afraid that if they get a chance to question Harry, the blunders of the Triwizard Committee and the Ministry’s mishandling of this whole situation – the illicit entry, the lack of answers about the magical contract and the attempts by other schools to recruit him – might be exposed to the wizarding public here and internationally, before the Ministry can formulate a suitably sanitized version for the public.”

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Blaise beneath their hoods. Bagman's offer, filtered through Daphne's insight, now reeked even more strongly of self-preservation, but it served their immediate purpose of a quiet departure. "That would be acceptable, Director Bagman," Harry replied, his voice muffled slightly by his hood, maintaining an air of detached formality. "We appreciate your consideration for our discretion."

"Excellent! Excellent!" Bagman chirped, relief washing over his face so visibly it was almost comical. "This way, then, if you please."

He scurried to his office door, peered out cautiously like a nervous dormouse, then gestured for them to follow. Instead of leading them towards the main thoroughfares of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Bagman guided them down a series of narrower, less-frequented corridors. The magical lighting here was dimmer, the sounds of the bustling Ministry more muffled. They passed unassuming doors bearing plaques with obscure sub-departmental names, places clearly not on any public tour or designed to impress visitors. The few Ministry witches and wizards they did encounter, mostly junior staffers laden with parchments, gave the hooded trio and the flustered Department Head little more than a curious glance before hurrying on their way, accustomed to the myriad eccentricities of Ministry life and likely too cowed by Bagman's departmental authority to ask questions.

Harry, Daphne, and Blaise moved silently behind Bagman, their hoods drawn low, observing the less glamorous underbelly of the Ministry. The air here was cooler, tinged with the faint scent of old parchment. Bagman, for his part, kept up a nervous stream of chatter about the upcoming Weighing of the Wands and the "splendid traditions" of the Tournament, all while casting anxious looks over his shoulder as if expecting someone to leap out and begin snapping pictures and asking questions..

Finally, after a few more turns through what felt like a service labyrinth, they emerged into a quieter, less ornate section of the main Atrium. It was near a bank of less frequently used fireplaces. 

"Here we are!" Bagman announced, gesturing towards the row of fireplaces as if he'd personally carved them from the marble walls. "Direct Floo access. Far less… public than the main departure points." He beamed at them, clearly pleased with himself. "Well, safe travels, Heir Potter, Miss Greengrass, Mr. Zabini. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts for the Weighing of Wands. The DMLE will be in touch regarding any further developments. Do try to enjoy the lead-up to the first task!"

"Thank you for your time, Director Bagman," Harry said, his voice offering no hint of the amusement or disdain he might be feeling. Daphne and Blaise offered curt nods from beneath their hoods.

With that, Harry stepped towards the nearest fireplace, took a pinch of Floo powder from a nearby ornate pot and clearly enunciated, "Potter Townhouse!" He tossed the powder into the flames, which roared emerald green and stepped into the swirling vortex. Daphne followed immediately, then Blaise, each disappearing into the green flames with practiced ease, leaving no trace of their presence.

Ludovic Bagman watched them go, letting out a long, shaky breath once the last hooded figure had vanished. He mopped his brow again with his already damp handkerchief. That, he thought with a shudder, could have gone a whole lot worse. Now, he just had to figure out how he was going to break the news of a fourth school, championed by Harry Potter and apparently backed by Giovanni Zatara, to the Minister. His day, it seemed, was far from over, and a strong drink would definitely be in order when he left for the day.