Here Be Dragons
Disclaimer: In the perfect world, I would be J.K. Rowling and own Teen Titans (and also be friends with Sherlock and travel with the Doctor, but then those two have nothing to do with this fic). But because life sucks, this is not a perfect world.
My first story to not start with the letter d! That in itself is a cause for celebration.
I thought it was time someone added a little twist to the typical high school AU stories, hence this plot bunny was born.
Also, BB/Star friendship is made of awesome.
Year One
"History never looks like history when you are living through it."
―John W. Gardner
Summer, 1991
Sometimes Garfield Logan hated his parents.
This was one of those times.
Don't get him wrong, Gar loved his parents, but sometimes he couldn't help but wonder what in Merlin's name was going on in their heads if they thought something like this was a good idea. And he wasn't just talking about their decision to move to a Muggle neighborhood. This could extend to a lot of things in which his parents made questionable choices. Like their jobs, for one thing. Gar would never understand that.
He didn't know why his parents had to choose Magizoology as their field of study. It was the most boring subject of all, except possibly History of Magic. It really wasn't all that exciting, if you ask him. All they did was research and study stuff about animals that no one would ever be really bothered to learn.
(Now, if his parents had chosen to specialize in dragons, Gar wouldn't deny that that would have been cool. Unfortunately, they didn't and had, instead, chosen to study genetic codes of magical creatures, whatever that was. Gar was pretty sure that no one sane would actually care about that sort of trivia.)
And move. They did that a lot, too. Having wizarding naturalists as parents meant their jobs often took their small close-knit family traveling from one continent after another.
Occasionally Gar fantasized about what it would be like if his mother was one of the wives that waited at home rather than a magizoologist like his father, but he had never seriously wanted to settle. Gar had grown up moving from country to country, with the odd summer here and there on American soil. It was fine, though. He preferred it that way. So maybe he didn't exactly meet a lot of children his age or made actual friends, but he really didn't mind it all that much.
This, however, he did mind.
Gar discovered at an early age that the thing with having Muggle-borns for parents was that they expected you to want to learn about your Muggle heritage as much as they did with the wizarding world when they were eleven. But Gar, most assuredly, wasn't interested.
That wasn't to say that he was like those pompous pureblood snobs who thought they were better than everyone else because of their blood – far from it. It was just that, as much as he tried, Gar just couldn't bring himself to care about all those Muggle doohickeys his mom kept telling him about. He wasn't exactly sure why their electro-whatsit was that big of a deal, it didn't look like much help compared to what you could do with a flick of a wand.
Of course, Gar had to admit that the Muggles had some pretty neat stuff. That tele-thingy was kind of cool (How did they manage to get all those portraits in one small box and got them all to make a play with music and everything?). Their sports weren't all that bad, either. His dad would sometimes get him to play football and, even if it only had one ball and no flying, he had to admit that it was pretty fun (still no Quidditch, though).
But what he thought of Muggles wasn't the point. The point was that it was summer, his family just moved to a city named Jump (Who names a city Jump anyway? Is there a town named Stand or Sit or Dance or whatever somewhere?), in a non-magical neighborhood, and he had absolutely nothing to do. Absolutely nothing at all.
Summer in Africa at least was a little more interesting than here. Sure there were no other wizards there, but at least then there were always the kids to play with in the local tribe and, with the forest having a few interesting places to look at, finding somewhere new and exciting to explore.
Here, there was nothing. Just houses and roads and the odd tree. He couldn't even take out his broom anymore or even do anything that was remotely related to magic because his parents were paranoid.
In short, Gar was bored.
This was why he hated his parents. He would be sure to blame them if he were to die of boredom before he even had a chance to try his own wand.
Too bad they wouldn't be here if he fell down dead, though. Both of his parents had gone to the supermarket that morning, so Gar had lied and said he had plans, dreading the idea of trailing round after them as his mom agonized over every item. His dad had smiled and said he was right.
"It's too nice a day to be indoors," his dad said.
Gar had agreed; the sun was at least shining and the large man across the road was mowing his front lawn without his shirt on, a sight no-one needed to see, but proved it was warm.
After reminding him to be careful, you'll never know when your magic is going to pop up and you're not allowed to use your broom, we wouldn't want the Muggles to see, his parents went on their way and left him once more to his own devices.
He spent a couple of minutes trying to watch – wait, what did his dad say they were again? The round, shiny, flat thing? Movies? Movies. Yeah.
He spent a couple of minutes trying to watch a movie, but since he had never operated a VCR on his own before, he quickly gave up trying to get the CD in the complicated machine and went out to explore the vicinity.
At first he had just wandered aimlessly, amusing himself for a little while kicking a crisp packet along, wishing he had brought with him his dad's soccer ball. After a few minutes of this ill treatment, the packet ripped in two and his game was over. There was only one thing left to do.
Gar had been told not to play by the big house on the hill. Just outside of the main hub of the town was a road that sloped up to a big manor house, surrounded by trees and some imposing cast iron gates. Some rich family (the Adams – wait, no . . . Anders – the Anders family) lived there and had guard dogs patrolling at all times – or so people said. Some people said there were children, but they didn't go to the local primary school and there was a lot of curiosity about them. Gar didn't really care. He was a wizard – never mind that he had yet to receive formal education, he was still magic. After spending most of his childhood in remote villages near jungles and forests, these guys had nothing.
His family hadn't been staying in Jump for very long, but Gar quickly found out that the Anders were pretty much the center of the local gossip. Apparently, they were never one to shy away from charities, particularly those centered for children. The family company – Tamaran-something or another – even had their own foundation, frequently holding galas and charity events and funding public schools and other establishments.
Well, that was what the old lady next door told his mom, at least. Gar didn't particularly care if the words were true or not, but he did think it was pretty weird that the family, whoever they were, decided to have a house that stood out like a sore thumb in the modest neighborhood. Kind of stand-offish, if you asked him.
But the wealthy family wasn't what really interested Gar. What did interest him about the house on the hill were the trees. They were thick fir trees that cut off the view of the house, with very few footholds lower down, but, Gar supposed, the bark on the bottom would be rough enough to climb. Some of the trees, he reasoned, must be outside the fence. Today he would go there and climb one, all the way to the top.
The house was further away than it looked, and the hill a lot steeper, but the climb wasn't that hard. He was right, there were some trees outside the fence and the one he had his eye on was the tallest and the widest. He would need to be three times his actual height at least to reach the lowest branches, he thought, but he would get to the top. He would. So instead of sitting down or turning back, he struggled on, even though his legs burnt with the effort.
By the time he got there and pressed his hand to the rough bark, Gar couldn't help but stare. Up close, the house was the kind of building that should have had thunder effects and organ music surrounding it twenty-four seven. It wasn't the normal modern mansion he was expecting, all marble and concrete. The place somehow had the atmosphere of a gothic mansion, with crumbling masonry and windswept towers and gruesome gargoyles. It didn't look like it belonged in the right century and Gar was sure it wouldn't look out of place during Merlin's time.
He gave himself a mental shake and looked away from the manor, reminding himself of his task. Gar quickly wiped his palms on his jeans and reached as high as he could above his head, beginning to scramble up. He climbed rhythmically, taking his time, testing footholds before putting his weight onto them.
When he reached the branches, Gar found himself a good view of the Anders' backyard. He wanted to keep on climbing, to get as close to the top of the tree as he could, but the swing set on the wide and nearly deserted lawn caught his eye. Two girls who looked to be around his age were swinging backward and forward, and he watched, curiosity sparked, as the very pretty redhead swung higher and higher than the other.
"Kori, don't do it!" shrieked the elder of the two.
But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown – quite literally flown – into the air, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the grass, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, her long mane of dark red hair flying around her, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.
Gar's jaw quite literally dropped, just about managing to keep his grip on the tree as he stared in amazement at the girl with wide eyes.
It looked like he wouldn't be the only one going to Hogwarts this September.
"Mom told you not to!"
Kori Anders turned to look at her older sister Connie, who had stopped her swing by dragging the heels of her sandals on the ground, leaping up with hands on hips. She looked a lot like Kori, only with black hair streaked with purple, dark eyes, and a fair complexion instead of her tan.
"Mom said you weren't allowed, Kori!"
"But I am most fine," Kori said, still giggling. "Connie, look at this. Watch what I can do."
She picked up a fallen flower from a nearby bush. Connie advanced, looking torn between curiosity and disapproval. Kori waited, unable to hold her excitement, until Connie was near enough to have a clear view, then she held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.
Kori grinned at her sister, bright green eyes twinkling. She didn't know how, but she had managed to do the same thing yesterday. At first she had thought it was just the wind or her mind playing tricks on her, but somehow she knew that it wasn't just that. Her intuition had told her it was something else. It wasn't the first time that something strange like that had happened to her.
Once, Connie had given her a revolting rainbow colored sweater for Christmas and, as much Kori loved her sister, she couldn't bring herself to even try to put it on. But Connie had insisted that she wear it on her birthday party last year. Kori couldn't say no to her sister and, as she decided to try it for the first time, she tried not to imagine what people (especially Connie's friends) would say and focused instead on the fact that she was doing it for her sister's birthday. The harder she tried to pull it over head, however, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet. Her mother had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and had told her that she would just have to wear something else, to Kori's great relief (Connie had been mad at her, though, and had ignored her for most of the party).
Another time, her family had visited one of her parents' colleagues and, after dinner, she and her brother Ryan had gone out to explore the manor. They hadn't been expecting the guard dogs, but Kori, being taller than even most boys her age, was a fast runner. Ryan wasn't. The whole time they were being chased, Kori worried that her little brother would get hurt and so she had grabbed his hand to pull him faster along. And then just like that, to everyone's surprise, there they were sitting on the chimney. They had gotten in trouble with their parents who, although relieved to find them safe, didn't hesitate to ground them for apparently climbing to the roof (It was dangerous! What were you thinking?), but all she tried to do was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Kori supposed that the wind must have caught her and Ryan in mid-jump.
She didn't know why strange things often happened around her, but they did. She always tried to explain how they were even possible. Kori had been trying to do the same thing with the flower, but with little luck. She wasn't expecting the trick to work this time and so she couldn't help but feel thrilled even if she still had yet to work out how she had done it.
But, to Kori's disappointment, Connie didn't seem pleased at all.
"Stop it!" Connie shrieked.
Kori's face fell.
"It is not hurting you," she said, but she closed her hand on the blossom and threw it back to the ground.
"It's not right," Connie said, but her eyes had followed the flower's fight to the ground and lingered upon it. "How do you do it?" she added. If Kori didn't know any better, she would've thought that there was a definite longing in her voice.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" an unfamiliar voice said and Kori jumped in surprise, swiveling her head so fast to find the person who spoke that she cricked her neck.
The boy was up on the tree on the other side of the fence and couldn't have been any older than she was, if not younger. Even from where she stood, Kori could see that he was short (but then Kori rarely met eleven year olds who weren't short compared to her) and rather scrawny, with blond hair, unruly and sticking up all over the place that she supposed was thanks to his climb.
"You're not supposed to climb that!" Connie shrieked.
A dull flush of color mounted the boy's cheeks and he seemed to regret announcing his appearance.
"I like climbing trees," he said, his voice going up a defensive octave. "And it's not like it's on your land, anyway."
Connie smirked, looking rather smug as she crossed her arms and, her glare never wavering, said briskly, "It is. Our land goes right down to the road."
Kori just looked at the boy, unable to mask her curiosity.
"Please, what is obvious?" she asked, ignoring her sister.
The boy had an air of excitement. With a glance at Connie, he lowered his voice and said, "I know what you are."
"What do you mean?"
"You're . . . you're a witch."
Kori was affronted.
"That is not a very nice thing to say," she said, hurt.
"No!" The boy was highly colored now, his voice squeaking. "You are. You are a witch. No one could have done that jump! I saw you do it! But there's nothing wrong with that. My mom's a witch and me and my dad are wizards."
Connie's laugh was like cold water.
"Wizard!" she shrieked. "I know who you are. You're that new boy! The one that just moved here – the Logans," she told Kori, and it was evident from her tone what she thought of their new neighbors. "Why have you been spying on us?"
"I haven't been spying," the boy said, defensive again. "I wouldn't spy on you, anyway," he added spitefully, "you're just a Muggle."
Kori didn't know what the word meant, but there was no mistaking the tone – it was the same one Connie used when she said the boy's name. Apparently, Connie noticed it too.
"Kori, come on, we're leaving!" she said hotly.
Kori supposed she should have felt offended on her sister's behalf and should have obeyed her and marched back home, but she didn't. Her gut told her that there was something about this boy, that she should stay and listen because there was something different about him. She didn't know what it was, but it was there, just out of reach in her mind, and she strained towards it until she heard Connie's screech.
"Kori!" she demanded.
Kori hesitated and for a moment thought that she should just follow after Connie, but she remained where she was. She had always trusted her intuition, and she saw no reason to not listen to it now.
"You go on," she called back to her sister. "I – I shall catch up with you later, yes?"
Connie glared at her and the boy as she left, and Kori watched her until she disappeared into the house before turning back to the stranger up on the tree. She stared at him, a determined furrow to her brows as though he was some sort of complicated puzzle she was trying to solve.
The boy could only smile at her uncertainly.
"Uhh . . . hi?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Kori cocked her head to the side.
"Please, what did you mean when you said that I was a witch?"
The boy looked very much like he regretted ever opening his mouth and would want nothing more than to vanish into thin air.
"Uh – yeah. Just – just forget I said anything." He began to climb down the tree. "Give it another week."
"Another week for what?"
"You just think about it. Things must have happened to you, things that you can't explain, haven't they?"
Kori frowned, confused, and looked at him suspiciously.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Gar. I mean – Garfield. Logan, but you probably already knew that. Everyone calls me Gar."
"Greetings, Gar. I am Kori Anders," she said, although a bit reluctant. She wasn't sure giving her name to such a weird stranger was a good idea.
"I'll see you at school then, Kori," Gar said, and then, to Kori's shock, jumped down from the tree.
Instinctively, Kori ran forward. It was too high a jump, one that should have hurt him, but she didn't hear anything – not a loud crash or thump or even a howl of pain. All she heard were brisk steps of someone running hastily. Kori wanted to run across the grounds, to chase after him and ask how he had done it, but decided against it. This time she didn't resist the little voices on the edge of her mind telling her to run back inside the house.
Gar ran as fast as he could, wanting to hit himself in the head as he did.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
What had he been thinking? He shouldn't have opened his mouth! It wasn't any of his business. Why did he even say anything?
Stopping at the corner of his road to catch his breath, Gar decided that it must have been one of the dumbest things he'd ever done. Really, it was stupid of him to even think of climbing the tree.
Except, as he walked back inside the living room and threw himself on the couch, Gar realized that it wasn't his decision to say something that he regretted; it was that he didn't say more.
His family was always moving. They never stayed in one place long enough to form attachments of any kind and it wasn't until now that his parents decided to settle. Because of his parents' job, he met a lot of people, but he never got the chance to know them.
He didn't have friends. Never had one in his life, but he was okay with that. It did bother him at times when he thought it would have been nice to have someone else to talk to or to play an actual game of Quidditch with someone who, unlike his dad, wouldn't lose to him on purpose, but he had always been fine with that.
Until now, at least.
As excited as Gar was to start at Hogwarts this fall, there was no denying that he was worried. What if he messed up? What if he got sorted in Slytherin? What if he never got a single spell right? What if they kicked him out? What if he never fit in?
Gar never seriously considered it, but he supposed he did want to fit in. Maybe he wanted to be like the other kids for once. To be normal. To do what normal wizards his age did, and not gallivanting around some odd rainforest every other week. To have friends.
And that encounter with the Anders had been his chance.
Gar sighed, disappointed.
It had been his chance to make his first friend, and he had to go ruin it by running away.
Stupid.
A week passed without anything notable occurring. Kori couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, and more than once she considered looking for Gar. As much as the boy had bewildered her, he had fascinated her too. Gar had talked nonsense of course, but at least it was the interesting kind of nonsense. Kori felt she was a bit old for playing pretend, but sometimes when she was bored or couldn't sleep she'd make up stories for herself. She wondered if this Garfield was the same way.
Everything Gar had said still rattled around in his head. Why had he been talking about wizards and witches? About magic? Maybe it was just some sort of prank, but somehow Kori knew that it was more than that.
None of it made sense. Gar had seemed too old to believe in that kind of thing. But maybe he did know something; otherwise how had he done that jump?
But magic wasn't real. There had to be some trick to it.
Yet, somehow, she didn't sense that there was a trick to it. Kori's intuition had always been very strong. She always seemed to know when someone was about to enter a room before her ears could consciously pick up any sound, or somehow always knew exactly where to be at a given time.
And strange things did happen to her – things that she couldn't explain. In the days following, she had tried to convince herself that every peculiar thing that happened around her was just her imagination or a dream, but she knew she was lying to herself. Everything inside her believed Gar was telling the truth.
Then, precisely seven days after she had met Gar, an unusual letter arrived. It came through the letter box in the morning with the other post, but it didn't have any stamps on it, and the envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, sealed with wax and a ribbon. It was addressed in old fashioned writing to Miss Kori Anders.
Her parents, baffled by it, brought it up to her room, handing her some scissors to cut the ribbon. Kori somehow knew, as soon as she saw it, that this was what the strange boy had been talking about. She cut the ribbon and unfolded the letter.
At the top was a school crest and a banner with something on it in Latin, beneath which was a letter written in emerald green.
Dear Miss Anders,
We are pleased to inform you that due to your special talents you have been considered for a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A staff member will come over and explain the offer in person, so if you and your parents/guardian could make it convenient to be in at seven o'clock on the evening of 3rd July, we can progress your application.
With kind regards,
Professor C. Kent
Deputy Headmaster
She handed the letter over to her father to read and played with the wax seal, peeing it off the envelope and twirling it in her fingers. She was glad she hadn't broken it. It was the same school crest, featuring a quartered design of a lion, a snake, a badger and some kind of bird. She could just about make out the writing on the banner: "DRAGO DORMIENS NUNQUAM TITLLANDUS". She wondered what it meant, though it sounded glorious. Perhaps she would go to the library later and try to translate it.
"Hogwarts?" her mother said. "I've never heard of it. Your father and I certainly didn't apply there for you. I wonder if the school passed your name on. I have no idea where it is, though. It must be one of those fancy private places. Still, I would have thought the school would have told me if they were recommending you. . . . What does it say?"
"It's a school for magic," her father said, his eyes fixed on the letter and looking like he couldn't quite believe what he was reading.
Her mother gave him an unimpressed look, clearly not believing him, and so her father thrust the letter out at her to read. Kori watched as he mother's tan face rapidly turned pale.
"It's a joke," she declared, her voice flat, "it has to be."
Three days later, a tall, handsome man hulking mass of a man appeared on the doorstep of Anders Manor and nearly destroyed their living room.
Needless to say, whatever doubts Kori's parents had about the wizarding world had been gone the instant Professor Kent let Kori try his wand.
"You're family's pretty loaded."
"Please, how is my family loaded? I am not carrying any luggage."
"No – I – it's an expression."
"Oh."
" . . . You're not from around here, are you?"
"No, I was born here, but my family traveled most frequently when I was younger. I was taught English, but it did not fascinate me as other languages did, and I am much more eloquent in other dialects."
"You know other languages?"
"Nothing fluently. I only know enough for basic conversation in most languages."
"So, you don't know the common phrases and sayings?"
"Exactly."
"But what about your sister? She . . . doesn't sound like you."
"Connie is quite content with knowing how to converse in English and did not attempt to learn as many languages as I did."
"Oh. That explains your accent, I guess, and why you sound so . . . formal."
"Hmm."
". . . Hey, Kori?"
"Yes?"
"Sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have jumped on you and your sister like that."
"It is most fine. You did not mean us harm."
"Yeah. . . ."
". . . It is real, yes?"
"What's real?"
"Hogwarts? Magic? It is not a joke?"
"'Course it's real. It's real for us. You did magic, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"See? You've got nothing to worry about."
". . . Friend Gar?"
"Yeah?"
"Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"
". . ."
"Gar?"
". . . No, it doesn't make any difference."
September, 1991
"There, look!"
"Where?"
"Next to that big guy – Bruce Wayne."
"Wait – you mean, Bruce Wayne? The Auror Bruce Wayne?"
"Is it him? Is he –"
"He is. It's him!"
"Dick Grayson!"
"Oh, Merlin! It's the Boy Wonder!"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Whispers followed him from the moment he stepped beyond the barrier to platform nine and three-quarters. Heads swiveled to his direction. Almost every pair of eyes in the vicinity was on him. People lining up outside the scarlet steam engine stood on tiptoe to get a look. Some doubled back to pass him again, staring.
Dick Grayson wished they wouldn't. It was more than a little unnerving.
He was used to the stares, to being constantly under some sort of spotlight. Everywhere he went, everyone's attention always seemed to land on him. He could feel their gazes at his back, following him as he walked. He saw them gaping at the corner of his vision, the way their eyes flew to his forehead to catch a glimpse of the lightning-shaped scar it bore.
Dick hated it.
He tried not to shift uncomfortably, to keep his expression as blank as possible, but as good as he was at hiding his emotions, he couldn't mask everything he felt.
His adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, on the other hand, didn't share his trouble. As they walked across the platform, Bruce's face was void of emotion and if he was at all perturbed by the stares they were receiving, he gave no indication. He had the most unflinching pokerface Dick had ever seen. But then, Bruce had years of practice. Dick supposed a stoic front was an advantage in being an Auror.
It also helped that Bruce could be terrifying when he wanted to be, especially his glares. He had a cold, intimidating air about him, and Dick was sure that it was this more than his fame that helped clear a path for the duo amongst the sea of people.
Dick had long grown accustomed to Bruce's seeming callousness. Having grown up under his godfather's care, Dick knew that as unfeeling as he seemed, Bruce was anything but. Contrary to what most people thought (and what the Daily Prophet made him out to be), Bruce Wayne was capable of emotion – he just didn't know how to show it.
Dick didn't really hold it against Bruce. He had the same problem.
But sometimes, Dick wondered what it would be like if he didn't, if Bruce wasn't as detached as he was. Alfred was amazing, of course, and Bruce might never say it, but Dick knew that he loved him. It was that sometimes he just wished Bruce would tell him, because maybe sometimes Dick didn't need someone he could call his father. Maybe what he needed was someone he could call his dad.
"All right, Dick?" Bruce asked in a gruff sort of voice.
Dick glanced at him and gave a small noncommittal shrug.
To the outside observer, he might have looked indifferent about the entire affair, but Dick was nervous. He was going to Hogwarts and, as much as he tried to tell himself that it really didn't matter, Dick knew that it did.
"Remember to write once you get settled in," Bruce reminded him. "Alfred will be anxious to hear how you are."
A small fond smile crossed Dick's features.
"I will," he promised.
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.
The platform was beginning to empty. All around Dick, parents were giving last pieces of advice, last minute reminders, swarming forward for final kisses and to give one last hug.
Dick swallowed, becoming all too aware of the cold plunging sensation in his stomach.
Hogwarts.
As the conductor yelled out that it was time for everyone to board the train, it suddenly hit home to Dick that he was leaving. It suddenly seemed all too soon.
He was leaving. He wouldn't be staying at the Manor anymore. He would be gone. For nearly a whole year.
He would be alone. There would be no Alfred, no Bruce, not even Jason. . . .
Bruce crouched down, his face slightly below Dick's. Not for the first time, Dick marveled at how, despite not being related by blood, Bruce's eyes were so much like his own.
"Ready?" Bruce asked.
No. No, I'm not, Dick thought, but he nodded anyway.
And then suddenly he was being enveloped in a bone crushing hug. Dick froze, bewildered at the unexpected show of affection from Bruce, not sure how he was supposed to react or what to say.
But then Bruce whispered quietly, so low that it almost didn't reach Dick's ears, "You'll be fine."
That was all the reassurance Dick needed to hear.
"Need a hand with your trunk?" a cheerful voice said, popping out of one of the compartments. "Where are you sitting?"
"Just down there, thanks," Rachel Roth replied, taking one end of the trunk.
The boy looked a few years older than her, in the awkward and dreaded stage of adolescence when his limbs were gangly and out of proportion, and his skin beneath his fiery hair was covered in spots. Still, he had a friendly smile, and Rachel was grateful to him as she lifted one end of her case and the older boy the other. Between them they got the trunk into the very end compartment, where the boy managed to get it up into the overhead rack.
"Thanks," Rachel said, trying not to pant too much.
"It was no trouble," the boy said, smiling kindly. "Are you a first year? I'm just about to start my fourth. Name is Terry Long."
"Rachel Roth."
Just like that, the boy's smile was wiped clean and he stood frozen, eyes wide. Rachel, having expected his response, took the opportunity to close the compartment door on his face.
She tried not to let it get to her. Rachel had seen that look of fear on other people's faces before, more times than she cared to count, and had been on the receiving end of much worse. Being the daughter of a notorious Death Eater and follower of You-Know-Who, it was to be expected that she would receive terrified looks, unpleasant scowls, and hateful glares from people she didn't know.
It was just so typical, how everyone automatically assumed the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. And, for all she knew, maybe they were right.
(She really hoped they weren't.)
It wasn't like she blamed them at all. Her father had done terrible things and, like the rest of the wizarding world, she hoped he stayed in Arkham for good. It was why she never really made a move to defend him or her family.
Rachel had told herself a long time ago to not care about the way everyone looked at her, to ignore the judgment in their eyes. But, remembering Terry Long's expression when she had told him her name, she knew it was a hard mantra to follow.
She hoped that her expression, at least, hadn't betrayed her hurt. Rachel strove to be ice; she didn't want to get into the habit of showing emotions, not when there were people who would shun her without a second thought for having the misfortune of being related to a monster.
She sat down next to the window where, half hidden, Rachel saw a scrawny blond boy peering around, face pinched into a frown.
"She'll be along, Gar," the boy's father said.
The boy gave a small start and glanced at the hand resting on his shoulder. His father squeezed it reassuringly.
"Yeah, but her family's Muggle!" the boy exclaimed. "What if they don't know how to get to the platform? What if they got lost?"
"Our families are Muggles," his father said, "and we did just fine."
"But–"
"Kori will be here, don't worry."
His blase words, however, did nothing to reassure the boy.
"Oh, I can't believe you're going to school already!" the boy's mother gushed, eyes filling with tears as she pulled him in a tight hug. "When did you grow up?"
"Mom – gerrof!" Gar said, blushing slightly as he glanced around.
Finally his mother let go of him and put her hands on her hips, glaring. "Are you embarrassed Garfield Logan, to be hugged by your own mother?" She raised a single brow as she said this in a rather calm voice.
Gar flinched. "No, of course not."
The corner of Rachel's mouth twitched upward in amusement and she leaned back quickly so the family wouldn't see her looking.
Taking out her battered copy of Hogwarts, A History, she opened it to Chapter 5 and started reading.
It was three against one. The boy was short for his age and he was all pale skin and bones and blond hair – no muscle to speak of. It was painfully obvious that he had never thrown a punch in his life.
Victor Stone didn't know who the boy was or why the pack of Slytherins (because Victor knew without a doubt that the moment the Hat touched their heads, those three would be sitting with the Snakes) had targeted him, but he knew an unfair fight when he saw one. It wasn't right to pick on someone smaller just because you could. Walking away was not an option.
"Leave him alone!"
Three heads turned his way, their expressions ranging from surprised to disdainful. The blond boy stared at the scene that was about to unfold.
"What's it to you?" a large redhead, who seemed to be the ringleader, asked. He was a big, burly kid, already a head taller than Victor, and there weren't a lot of people around his age bigger than him. Victor supposed he would've been intimidated, if it wasn't for the fact that the mammoth-sized boy struck him as the dim sort.
"Y'all ought to pick on someone your own size," Victor said. He internally cringed at how awful and painfully unoriginal his words sounded. "You think you're tough, gangin' up on that kid, don't you?"
"You offering to make things more even?"
The Mammoth Boy took a step towards him, fists clenched. Victor pulled out his wand. It didn't matter that he didn't even know a single spell yet; Victor knew that he looked a year or two older than eleven. He supposed he could use that to his advantage, he knew he could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
"I'm offerin' to let you off with a warning. Let him go."
"And if we don't?" the brawny boy said.
He was clearly asking for a fight, but his cronies didn't look as confident.
"Baran," a lanky, seedy-looking boy whispered quietly, "maybe we should – "
"Shut up, Billy," said Mammoth Boy. "If you're afraid, then I'll deal with him on my own."
"Oh, will you?" someone said right behind Victor.
"Crud. . . ." a short, bald boy said under his breath.
Victor turned and saw quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Tall with thick, wavy raven hair, she had blue eyes that shone like crystals and her ivory skin was unmarred by a single blemish. Victor thought it was impossible that this vision could be anything less than a goddess.
"That's bold of you, Mr. Flinders," continued the woman, "to risk detention before you've even set foot in Hogwarts."
"We were only joking around, Professor," the lanky boy said.
"Oh?" The professor, perfectly composed, raised an eyebrow, staring at each student in turn.
There was a pause. Victor enjoyed watching the three boys squirm under the professor's scrutinizing gaze.
"Detention for all of you, I think," she said at last, in a hard, commanding voice Victor didn't expect from someone so beautiful. "Report to my office immediately after dinner tomorrow. And ten points each, from whichever House you are sorted in. We may not be at school yet, but I will not tolerate fighting nor will I let it go punished. Consider this me being kind, is that understood?"
The boys hung their heads, unable to meet anyone's eyes, and nodded. Even the blond boy, looking slightly fearful, nodded furiously.
"To your compartments – now!" barked the professor.
Almost instantly, the boys scampered away, and the moment they were out of sight, the woman's cold demeanor changed instantaneously. Her features softened and she looked at them with warm eyes. Victor thought she looked lovelier, if it was even possible.
"Are you all right?" she asked kindly.
"Y-Yeah," the blond boy stuttered, captivated. "I'm okay."
The professor nodded, smiling softly. "Good. You best be off to your compartments, then. It's going to be a long train ride. Do be careful next time, both of you."
As she walked away, Victor and the other boy could only stare after her, still enthralled.
"Dude," the boy said, sounding almost breathless as he broke the silence, "she has got to be a veela."
Victor nodded and then turned to face him. "You okay, man?"
"I'm fine," the boy shrugged and, holding out his hand, said, "Thanks for helping me back there. I'm Garfield Logan."
Victor shook the boy's hand. "Garfield?"
The boy – Garfield – smiled sheepishly. "I go by Gar."
"Victor Stone," Victor replied. "And it was no problem."
The train began to move. Dick watched Bruce disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Dick felt a great leap of anxiety. He didn't know what was going to happen when he reached Hogwarts.
What if I'm in Slytherin?
Dick loved Bruce, of course, and Bruce was as Slytherin as they came. But Dick didn't want to be like his father. He wasn't stupid; Dick had heard of the stories about Slytherin before. He knew that Deathstroke – Dick didn't bother calling him You-Know-Who, it was stupid to be scared of a name – had come out of that House, and so did every Dark Wizard in existence. And as much as Dick cared for Bruce, it wasn't enough to convince him that Slytherin wasn't as bad as everyone claimed. Dick would no sooner leave Hogwarts altogether than be sorted in the House of his parents' murderer. There was nothing that would make him want to stay and not even Bruce could alleviate his judgment.
The door of the compartment slid open and two boys came in. They couldn't have looked more different; one was short, pale and blond, the other dark-skinned and twice the former's size.
"Anyone sittin' there?" the larger boy asked, pointing at the seat opposite Dick. "Everywhere else is full."
Dick shrugged, shaking his head, and the two boys sat down. The other boy – the scrawny, blond one – glanced at Dick and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked.
"I'm Victor Stone, by the way," the dark boy said. "This is Gar Logan. Nice to meet you."
"Dick Grayson." He braced himself for the inevitable and was not disappointed when two pairs of eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Are you really Dick Grayson?" The boy named Gar blurted out.
Dick shrugged, trying not to seem uncomfortable. His experiences had taught him to take such greetings philosophically – and from what he knew of the Logan family (Muggle-born wizarding naturalists, both parents. Dick knew because more than one of Bruce's pureblood colleagues in the Ministry held less than favorable comments on their books) Gar had every right to be surprised.
"I thought it was just a rumor, but – wow," Gar said, earnestly eager. "And have you really got – you know. . . ."
He pointed at Dick's forehead.
Dick pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Gar stared.
"You're drooling," Victor said dryly, his elbow jabbing Gar's side. It was obvious to Dick, though, that as nonchalant as his words sounded and as composed as he seemed, Victor was probably just as awestruck as Gar was.
Gar ignored his friend's jibe, his eyes never leaving Dick.
"So that's where You-Know-Who –?"
"Yeah," Dick said, "but I can't remember it."
"Nothing?" Gar said eagerly.
"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."
"Wow," Gar said, eyes shining. "This is so cool!"
He was practically bouncing on his seat. Dick tried not to fidget under his intense stare.
They sat like that for a few moments, Victor looking as though he couldn't decide between amusement and disbelief. And then, finally –
"Can I have your autograph?"
Dick's eye twitched, but, to his relief, he didn't get a chance to respond. Gar had already turned to Victor, talking animatedly with wild gestures and a broad grin. Dick had never seen anyone look so energetic before; he didn't think it unlikely if Gar were to burst any moment now.
As Gar engaged Victor in conversation, he didn't notice the redheaded girl outside their compartment. Dick did, though. She was rather tall, an orange glow to her skin, and she was staring at Gar, a frown on her lips. Dick was about to call her attention, to ask if she wanted to sit – maybe she was one of Gar's or Victor's friends or something – but before he could, she was turning away and for one brief instant, her eyes locked with his. Green met blue and as Dick became acutely aware of how pretty she was, he was surprised to find not a single flash of recognition on her face.
But then she turned, her gaze not lingering on him at all, and walked away, and the moment was gone as quickly as it came.
"You already in the market for a broomstick?" Victor asked, seeing Gar take out the latest copy of Which Broomstick? "We aren't even allowed those until next year."
Gar pulled out the magazine and flipped to a page pulling out the insert. He showed it to Dick and Victor, who whistled when he saw the illustration.
"That's the new Nimbus Two Thousand, isn't it?" Victor said.
Gar nodded. "Yeah, it's really expensive, but it's going to make all previous brooms outdated in months!"
The photo showed a sleek, flawlessly finished racing broom rotating on a platform in the sky with perfectly shaped bristles and a shiny mahogany handle.
"They are lighter and faster than any broom before," Gar said, sounding almost reverent, "and are individually stamped and hand carved with independently fitted twigs. They're going to be breaking the speed marks soon. You won't ever be able to climb faster on any other broom!"
Dick chuckled. "You seem to know more about it than I do."
Victor's jaw dropped. "You have a Nimbus Two Thousand?"
"DUDE!" Gar blurted, sitting forward on his chair. "You do? Can I come over?"
Dick was taken aback, not expecting that sort of reaction.
"Didn't you ever learn to wait to be invited?" Victor said sternly.
"But it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!" Gar said breathlessly. "I've never even touched one! You have it, right, Dick?"
"Yes," Dick said, slowly.
"I've only got a Cleansweep, and it's nowhere near in the same league as the Nimbus!"
Dick gave his new friend a tolerant stare. "I'll tell you what, you can write a love letter to it, and I'll see if I can get the two of you together. I expect a June wedding."
Victor snorted.
Gar, on the other hand, was at the edge of his seat, eyes wide and glossy. "You mean it?"
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to look at the passing scenery, some fighting over seats. Kori pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed by a boy with spiky red hair surrounded by a small crowd.
"Give us a look, Wally, go on."
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms and laughed as the people around him shrieked and yelled when something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.
Kori pressed on through the crowd, continuing her search. She didn't mind her walk through the train (she rather enjoyed it, actually), but Kori couldn't help but feel disappointed as she peeked from one compartment to another, only to find each one already full. She had been hoping to sit with Gar, but not only had she and her family arrived at the platform later than they had intended (Who would have thought that Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was behind the barrier between platform nine and platform ten? Kori would not have found it if it hadn't been for the kind redheaded girl a year or two older than her. She hoped people at Hogwarts were just as nice.), she had found him already with a burly brunet and a pale, blue-eyed boy. Kori supposed she shouldn't have expected Gar to constantly keep her company; he had grown up knowing the wizarding world like it was the back of his hand. Of course he had other friends – wizard friends he had known longer than she knew him. Kori couldn't blame him for choosing to spend time with them instead of her.
But still. Gar was her only friend, the only person she knew here. Kori was more than a little dismayed, not to mention anxious.
Here she was, entering a world she never knew she was a part of – on her own, it seemed. Even after all this time, she still couldn't wrap her mind around it. It just all seemed so surreal, like something that had stepped beyond the pages of a fantasy novel.
Bits of lively conversation echoed around her, the sense of history was everywhere. So many witches and wizards had made this same journey, and walked through these posh, red paneled, carpeted hallways.
Now it was her turn, on her way to a school with a funny-sounding name.
And she was alone. She didn't know anyone and she knew next to nothing about magic.
Would she belong? Could she find her niche among these strange, oddly dressed people? Would she even be a good witch?
(Kori remembered how long it took to find her wand. It had taken ages, and after each failed attempt, she had begun to doubt if she belonged in the wizarding world at all. Even when she had found it – a beautiful, glossy, reddish-brown wand unmarred by a single scratch – Kori still wondered if she truly had enough magic in her to be called a witch.)
The pit in Kori's stomach seemed to grow with each passing second. Almost to the end of the train, she still hadn't found a compartment. Most of them were full, the ones that weren't contained students that didn't look too friendly to the passing first-year. Kori worried that she would never find a seat and would be left with no other choice but be stranded in the corridor for the whole trip, until she saw, peering through the glass-paneled doors, there, in the very last carriage, vacant except for a sole occupant.
The only person in the compartment was probably in the same year as Kori, petite with dark hair tinged with purple and a pallor that was almost close to gray. Kori didn't see the girl's face; it was buried in her book. She was too absorbed in what she was reading to notice Kori just outside the compartment.
Smiling tentatively, Kori slid the door open.
"Excuse me?"
Rachel looked up from her book to see a tall, pretty girl with dark red hair standing in the door to her compartment, slightly taken aback. Everyone had been avoiding her carriage like it was the plague. Those who had made a move to enter never got anywhere beyond reaching for the door; the moment they saw her, they immediately drew back. This girl, however, was the first to actually say something beyond a small 'eep' of surprise.
"Yes?" Rachel finally asked.
The girl smiled as if her response had been anything but an unenthusiastic syllable and, with an accent Rachel couldn't place, said, "Has the seat across from you been claimed for occupancy?"
It took a second for Rachel to translate, then another to decide. She didn't like people in general and she didn't think a girl who couldn't speak English was an improvement, but her desire to not be alone in the car like some museum oddity outweighed the infringement. Besides, Rachel was sure the girl wouldn't be staying long anyway.
"Knock yourself out," she replied monotonously.
"Why? If you do not wish for me to stay in your compartment, you could say so." The girl tried to hide her hurt, but it was obvious to Rachel that she was much better at expressing her emotions than hiding them.
Although Rachel kept her pokerface, it took more effort to bite back a sigh.
"It's an expression."
The girl dithered where she stood, and a moment later, Rachel understood why.
"Go ahead," Rachel added. "You can sit down."
The girl's smile resumed being far too bright and she dragged her trunk with such ease that Rachel wondered if there was even anything inside.
Rachel reopened her book, but she couldn't concentrate on what she was reading. She was surprised that the stranger had yet to scurry away – that anyone had stayed this long in her company, actually.
"My name is Kori Anders," the girl said. "Please, may I inquire for yours?"
Ah. So that's why she was still here.
"Rachel Roth." This time, Rachel didn't bother looking up from her reading. She knew what was going to happen next.
Except it didn't, and this stunned Rachel more than anything else.
"Greetings!" Kori said. "It is most joyous to meet you."
Rachel stared at Kori. She had always been good at reading other people's faces and, remembering everything she knew of finding deceit and hidden truths, Rachel tried to find some flaw, but all she saw was a pair of completely guileless eyes.
Muggle-born, Rachel decided. No wonder the girl didn't react at all.
Rachel didn't say a word, only gave a curt nod and returned to her book. She wasn't expecting much – it was probably just a one-time deal, anyway. Kori would eventually hear about Rachel's father and she wouldn't be likely to seek her out when she did.
But then, maybe she might. And maybe Rachel could use a friend, if only to shut her mother up.
That was such an odd place to end a chapter. -_-
This turned out way longer than I thought and didn't even include half of what I wanted to show. Gah. Originally I planned for this to end with the gang's Sorting, but because it was already long, I had to end it with the train ride to Hogwarts. I realize it's still long, but I already cut off a lot of scenes with Gar, Kori, Connie, Ryan, and Dick – this is as short as it's going to get.
You have no idea how hard it was to make the backstories for each character, especially Starfire's and BB's. Don't even get me started on how hard it was to make Robin's. Ugh. Still, I'm satisfied with what I've planned and written down so far, even though I'm still iffy with how I introduced Victor and Rachel.
I want this story to be as close to canon as possible, so I will only use canon pairings (Rob/Star and BB/Rae are so endgame) and only characters from either the show or the comics are going to appear in the story. No Harry Potter character ever existed in this universe since TT characters are going to take their place. And there will be no OCs, not if I can help it.
Sorry for the multiple POVs. I'll try not shift it around so much next time.
I hope you guys don't mind that I'll be changing a few minor things from the HP universe to better fit the story. So far, what I've changed are:
*The date you receive the Hogwarts letter. In this story, you receive it during the end of June, regardless of when your eleventh birthday is.
*Arkham is this universe's Azkaban.
*It's been a while since I last read all of the books, so for the sake of this story let's just assume that some teachers also ride in the Hogwarts Express.
Anyway, what did you guys think of the first chapter? Think the story's worth continuing? Let me know in your reviews.
Characters that did not appear in the TV series, in no particular order:
Mr. and Mrs. Logan (Mark and Marie Logan) – In the comics, Gar's parents were biologists, so I made them wizarding naturalists for this story.
Mr. and Mrs. Anders (Myand'r and Luand'r) – The Anders are a wealthy Muggle family who help out a lot in charities and often travel to third world countries. Tamaran Corp has been the Anders family company for generations.
Ryan Anders (Ryand'r/Wildfire/Darkfire) – He was supposed to be in this chapter, but I had to remove his scene. He will appear in the future, so keep an eye out for him.
Professor Clark Kent (Superman) – He's the Deputy Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor House. Originally, he was supposed to take Dumbledore's place, but I just couldn't bring myself to kill him off.
Professor Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) – I made her Head of Ravenclaw because in the comics, one of the powers granted to her was "the wisdom of Athena." You'll find out more about her backstory (which is kind of important for the plot) eventually.
Terry Long – In the comics, he was Donna Troy's deceased husband. Here, he is a fourth year Hufflepuff who will serve as a background character. We'll see more of him soon. Because of reasons.
Baran Flinders (Mammoth), Mikron O'Jeneus (Gizmo), and Billy Numerous – Okay, so they did appear in the show, but I don't think everyone knows their real names, so here they are. As for Billy, since he was just recently added in the mainstream comics, his real name remains a mystery.
Alfred Pennyworth – He may not have appeared in this chapter, but he was mentioned and he will make an appearance soon. He's just too awesome to not be included.
Bruce Wayne – He's the goddamn Batman.