Chapter Four
Where's Harry?

Updated 10/11/2013

=ooo=

Ron was waiting in the hallway leading to the elevators on level two of the Ministry offices, where Hermione was finishing up her work for the day as Solicitor General. His own workspace was a rather small cubicle that he now had to himself, it having been cleared of anything Harry had been working on. Rather than wait there, as he had before Harry's departure, Ron now always stood near the elevators; it felt good to get out of there and into the relatively open spaces of Level Two.

He had been there several minutes, nodding as other Aurors walked by on their way out of the Ministry, when Hermione appeared carrying her handbag. "Hello, dear," she said to Ron, rubbing his arm affectionately as they both moved down the hall to the elevators. "How was your day?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "About the usual," he grunted. This scenario was nearly the same every day they left together; both of them knew better than say anything of a personal nature inside the Ministry. The walls almost literally had ears, after all. The elevator arrived, nearly filled with other Ministry personnel leaving for the day, and they entered, taking the short trip one floor up to the Atrium.

"We're not too late," Hermione remarked idly as they walked toward an exit Floo, checking her watch. "Molly should just be starting dinner about now."

"She'll probably ask us to stay," Ron said, almost as a warning. His mother enjoyed seeing all of her grandchildren, in fact the more the merrier, but on some days Ron preferred a quiet evening at home with his wife and children.

"Do you want to?" Hermione asked, stepping into the Floo line for Ottery St. Catchpole. "Dinner will keep until tomorrow night."

"I think I'd like to take the children home," Ron said, giving Roland Miller a perfunctory wave as the man ahead of them stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a whirl of green flames. Roland was with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, a position his father Arthur Weasley had once held.

"Alright, then," Hermione smiled. "I'll see you at the Burrow." She patted him on the back. "Off you go, then," she said, urging him toward the Floo.

Ron nodded and stepped into the fireplace. This Floo was preset for Ottery St. Catchpole, so he did not need to say the destination aloud. Green flames shot up around him, and Ron found himself whizzing past grate after grate until he finally emerged in a small room hidden within the Muggle postmaster's office. The room was furnished with three cushiony chairs and a small water fountain, but no one was there at the moment. Roland must have immediately Apparated away once he arrived. Ron did the same, turning on his heel and flickering away to the Burrow.

He arrived just outside the gate, seeing two small boys who were running around the yard with sticks, pretending they were broomsticks and they were playing Quidditch like their father had during his days at Hogwarts. Seeing Ron, both boys waved madly at him, and Ron smiled and waved back. James and Albus were growing up fast, he thought; it was a shame their father wasn't here to enjoy it.

Hermione appeared a moment later and the two of them walked through the gate toward the Burrow. James and Albus ran over to them, still on their pretend-broomsticks. "Hi Aunt Hermione! Hi Uncle Ron!" they both shouted.

"Hi James! Hi Albus!" Hermione greeted them in reply. "All done with your lessons for today?"

"Yes!" both boys said. "Are you staying for dinner?" James asked Ron, a hopeful look on his face. Ron usually regaled his nephews with stories about his work as an Auror, a profession that James intended to follow his father into.

"Not tonight, James," Ron said. He watched with a pang of guilt as James's expression fell in disappointment. "Maybe tomorrow night — it'll be a Friday and we can stay up a bit later, okay?"

"Sure," James said, still sounding glum. His expression suddenly perked up. "Will you tell me more about the Marauder's Map, Uncle Ron?"

"If you like," Ron grinned, and both James and Albus beamed excitedly. "Tomorrow night, then," he told them, and the boys ran off to continue their Quidditch practice.

Inside the Burrow, Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen preparing supper for her extended family. "Oh hello, dears," she said as they came inside. "Dinner is just about ready!"

"We're not staying tonight, Mum," Ron said, feeling another pang as Molly's countenance fell. "But I promised James and Albus we'd stay tomorrow."

"Plenty of stew to go round if you change your mind," Molly said, hinting at the choice she wanted Ron to make.

"Thanks, Mum," Ron demurred. "It's been a long day." In fact he had news for Hermione that couldn't be said here in the Burrow, not as long as Ginny was here.

It was a strange situation. Ginny had gotten Harry thrown out of his own home, number 12 Grimmauld Place, but she spent most of her time here at the Burrow with her children, James, Albus and Lily, leaving the house empty except for Meacher, the house-elf who had replaced Kreacher after his death some years ago. In effect Ginny had abandoned her home to come live with her parents again. She was still working for the Daily Prophet — on many days she went out to watch Quidditch games being played across Britain, so she could report the scores and comment on the games in her sports column.

Hermione was getting Rose and Hugo ready to leave, making sure their coats were buttoned and Rose's school books were packed away in her bag. Rose had begun her home-schooling when she was three years old, and Hermione sometimes joked with Ron that she was smarter at five than he'd been when he'd started Hogwarts at eleven. Hugo was beginning to look enviously at the books his big sister read, though it seemed like it might be more of a competition for him than a thirst for knowledge. Either way, Hermione decided, it worked out; she wanted both of her children to have the advantage of as much Muggle education as possible when they went off to start their magical education.

"Hullo, 'Mione." Hermione turned to see Ginny standing in the doorway with her daughter Lily beside her.

"Oh, hi Ginny," Hermione smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Ron had told her too much about his sister's recent actions for Hermione to be genuinely happy to see her. Not that she disliked Ginny now — far from it, but Harry was her friend, too, and she didn't want to have to choose between him and Ron's family. "Hi Lily," she added, waving to her niece.

"Hi," Lily said, smiling shyly at her aunt.

"Staying for dinner tonight?" Ginny asked. "I know Mum would love to have you. Dad doesn't get to see much of his other grandkids lately, now that he's helping Savage take over the Auror Office."

"Ron's wanting to get home tonight," Hermione said, a trace of apology in her voice. "We thought we'd stay later tomorrow night."

Ginny beamed. "That'll make the boys happy," she said. "They love hearing Ron's stories." She reached down and picked up Lily. "Let's go get ready for dinner," she said to Lily. "See you later," she added to Hermione, then went downstairs.

Hermione gathered up Hugo. "Come on, dear," she said to Rose. "Let's go find Daddy." They walked down the stairs to the hallway between the kitchen and living room; Ron was still in the kitchen talking to Molly about Arthur's new job.

"He's very excited about it," Molly was saying as she directed a stack of bowls from the cupboard to the table. A drawer opened and spoons floated out of it and to the table as well. "It doesn't seem like much of a position — 'Personal Assistant to the Head Auror' — but it's really quite important, if you think about it."

"It is," Ron agreed. What he didn't say was that Savage probably wasn't quite ready for that position and needed as much help as he could get. Arthur Weasley had been with the Ministry for over three decades — even through most of the dark time when Voldemort ruled it from the shadows — and he likely knew more about the workings of the Ministry than anyone else there except Kingsley Shacklebolt himself.

"I just wish the new Head Auror didn't keep Arthur there so long," Molly added, as the pot of stew floated over from the stove to the table. She looked hopefully at her youngest son. "Are you sure you won't stay for dinner, dear?"

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said again. "Tomorrow. I promise."

Ron and Hermione led their children out the back door, waving bye-bye to Nanna, who waved back enthusiastically. Out through the back gate, they then doubled around to walk out to the road leading toward Ottery St. Catchpole. The Weasley home was closer to the town than the Burrow was, and less secluded. It was also just less than a mile away, so it was easier on the children to walk home than to Apparate while carrying them. It also had the side benefit of a bit of exercise for both Ron and Hermione. Ron sometimes kidded her that she needed to walk more often if she was ever going to get her girlish figure back. Since Ron had filled out a bit in the years since they first married, Hermione would smile and point out that he seemed to need walking even more than she. Part of Ron's daily routine was to spend a few minutes in the Auror Office's weight room, so he liked to thump his stomach in reply, pointing out how muscly it was.

The Weasley home was just at the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, in a recent addition to the town with modern streets and houses lining the streets, though not too close to one another, giving each home enough yard for living and playing space. The lawn was a bit thicker than their neighbors, the way Ron was used to having it from when he lived at the Burrow.

Ron pretended to get out his key to unlock the door; in reality he placed his right palm against the door, which recognized him and allowed access. That would only work for him, Hermione and Rose, plus a few other trusted family and friends like Ginny, his older brothers, and Mum. Harry was also recognized by the door, though Ron doubted he would be seeing Harry anytime soon. He was still anxious to tell Hermione what he'd learned today.

But first things first. While Hermione prepared their dinner, Ron sat in the living room with Rose and Hugo talking about what they'd learned that day. Rose was doing simple algebraic equations while Hugo was reading a year one primary school book. Hugo was impatient to get through with the book and move on to doing what Rose was doing.

"You're too young!" Rose scolded him. "You've got to learn to add and do your 'times by' tables first!"

"Do not!" Hugo insisted. "You never did!"

"You were too young to remember," Rose said patiently, as if talking to a small child (which she was, but the irony made Ron smile softly). "Besides, what's one and one?"

"Eleven," Hugo replied promptly, and Rose shook her head.

"See?" she told him. "You're stupid."

"Now don't say that," Ron told her. "Hugo will learn, just like you did."

Rose looked at her father and sighed. "I don't know," she said slowly, then leaned forward and whispered, "He can't even do one plus one!"

"Can too!" Hugo objected loudly. "You didn't say that before — you said one and one!" He held up his two index fingers side by side. "See? One and one make eleven!"

"He has a point," Ron said matter-of-factly, and Rose sighed again, exasperated.

"Dinner's almost ready," Hermione called from the kitchen, and Ron sent Rose and Hugo off to wash their hands, then went into the kitchen to set the table for Hermione.

"They're still going at it," Hermione remarked, hearing Rose and Hugo still arguing over who washed their hands the best.

Ron chuckled. "They take after their mum," he teased her. "You don't like to lose either, do you?"

Hermione gave him a penetrating look. "Well, you do realize it is my job to win cases for the Ministry? A fine Auror you'd be, for example, if you never brought in any Dark wizards!"

"You have a point," Ron admitted, placing four plates on the table. He was doing this by hand rather than by magic. He followed up with four glasses and four sets of silverware.

Hermione noticed this. "Tired?" she asked him, a little concerned.

"A little," Ron said, getting four napkins for them. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the beef stroganoff Hermione had made. "That smells delicious!" he announced, beaming at her.

"You're deflecting," Hermione said gently. At that moment Rose and Hugo ran into the kitchen, so she dropped it until later. They all sat at the table and Hermione filled everyone's plates.

The ongoing competition between Rose and Hugo continued. "Nanna gave me a book today about ancient wizards," Rose was saying. "It was really interesting!" She gave Hugo a baleful look. "But he kept trying to read over my shoulder!"

"Hugo has to learn to read too, dear," Hermione said to her.

"But I was reading it!" Rose argued. "It's very distracting when someone is trying to read what you're reading," she added, sounding very important.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione said, glancing at Ron, who had a tendency to read over her shoulder. "How is this: when you finish with the book, why don't you give it to Hugo to read?"

"Yes!" Hugo said loudly, believing he had won that engagement.

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another, sharing a quiet smile. Both of them encouraged their children to discuss what they'd learned, both with them, their cousins whenever possible, and even each other, but Hugo tended to be very competitive and Rose was — well, both of her parents felt she would be as smart as Hermione had been when she went to Hogwarts.

After dinner, with Ron in the kitchen doing the dishes, Hermione went over the reading Rose and Hugo had done while at the Burrow. Rose had completed the word problems in the chapter of the algebra book she'd been studying, and Hugo wanted to describe the story he'd been reading. Then it was time for bath and bed, and Ron joined his wife and children for the nightly tucking in.

"How late are we staying at Nanna's tomorrow?" Rose asked as Ron tucked her in. "I'm going to play Exploding Snap with James and Albus!"

"Me too!" Hugo exclaimed from across the room.

"No!" Rose said adamantly. "You're too little!"

"We'll talk about that tomorrow," Hermione said, ending the argument (for now, at least). "You two have a busy day tomorrow, so get to sleep."

"Okay Mum."

"Sweet dreams," Hermione said, and she and Ron went back to their bedroom and prepared for bed themselves.

"I think I need more sleep than they do," Ron said, smothering a huge yawn as Hermione pulled back the bedcovers for them. They both crawled into their large four-poster bed, pulled the covers onto them, and exchanged a kiss before Hermione took her wand off the bedside table and cast a Silencing Charm around them.

"Did you find out anything about Harry today?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Not good. Nobody's heard from him in weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's left magical Britain altogether."

"He wouldn't do that," Hermione argued. "His children are still here. I can't believe he'd abandon them."

"Well, he wouldn't," Ron agreed. "Harry would stay and fight this. He stayed around all those years fighting You-Know-Who, didn't he?"

"You can say the name 'Voldemort,' Ron," Hermione reminded him. "It hasn't been Taboo for years now." Ron just shrugged.

"I saw Ginny's petition today," Hermione went on, shaking her head sadly. "She wants him served in absentia so the divorce proceedings can proceed."

"Fat lot of good that's going to do her," Ron snorted derisively. "The Wizengamot's not going to nullify his rights just so his wife can take half his money away. It's not even her money in the first place!"

Hermione, however, did not look optimistic. "If the Malfoys are out for some kind of revenge there's no telling how much influence they can exert in the Wizengamot. They got him sacked in the first place — having his wife divorce him and take away half his money would be right up their alley."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Not directly," Hermione said. "I can only enforce the laws of the Ministry — the Wizengamot is technically the body that tells me what to do. Most of the time they don't bother with personal or domestic problems like this, but Harry has always been a high-profile person. I need to talk to him," she declared, giving Ron an intense look. "You've got to find some way for us to contact him so I can advise him what to do!"

"He didn't tell me a bloody thing about what he was going to do!" Ron objected, his voice rising. But he settled down a moment later, thinking. "Maybe I should ask Bill or Charlie — he might have gone to see one of them. Charlie's in Russia now, that's pretty far from Britain. It could be why nobody in Britain can find Harry."

"Talk to him and Bill tomorrow morning," Hermione nodded. She had gotten a look of concentration on her face. "Plus, I just remembered some that might help us find him if he's not with one of your brothers…"

"Really? What is it?" Ron wanted to know.

Hermione reached for her wand, but stopped. "If I try it now he might realize someone is searching for him…" She turned back to Ron. "You have this weekend off, don't you?"

"Sure," Ron said. "Why?"

"If I can locate Harry, you'll have a way to find him, wherever he's at, and bring him back home."

Ron gave her a wry look. "Assuming he wants to come back. I'm not going to try and make him come home if he doesn't want to, Hermione!"

"He should want to get things sorted out with Ginny," Hermione argued. "She's never going to let him see their children unless he settles things with her."

"I know," Ron admitted. Ginny could be vindictive, he thought to himself. She had learned from the queen of vindictiveness — Molly Weasley. Although Ron reminded himself that Mum had mellowed somewhat over the years after she'd killed Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle of Hogwarts. Killing someone, even someone as completely evil as Bellatrix had been, did something to a person. Molly was much more easygoing now. "When I find him I'll talk to him about it, Hermione," he said. "But no promises."

"Good!" Hermione agreed. "Let's get some sleep, then. Tomorrow, make sure at work that no one needs you for the weekend and we'll find out where Harry's gotten off to, then you'll bring him back to Britain."

"Okay," Ron said. He smiled suggestively. "Sure you want to go right to sleep?"

Hermione yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm pretty tired…" She closed her eyes and laid back, pulling the covers up to her chin. Ron was giving her a disappointed look when she opened her eyes and giggled. "C'mere, silly," she said, pulling him on top of her.

=ooo=

Invisible and silent, Harry prowled the rooftops of Smallville in the early morning hours of late September, watching and waiting for something to happen in the streets below him. After his encounter with Zatanna a few weeks previously he had begun his late-night patrols of the town, in part to keep what had happened to Clark, Lois and him from happening to anyone else, especially people not adequately prepared to defense themselves, and partly to see if the witch would try to find him again.

It had not been a very productive period, crime-wise. Smallville, like some of the townspeople had joked, pretty much rolled up its sidewalks and went to sleep after 10 p.m. The only activity around then were the employees at the Talon and the Burger Emporium closing up shop and going home. The Bowl O'Rama also closed at ten, but it was far enough from the center of town that almost no one traveled through Smallville to get home after it closed.

That left only Harry up on the rooftops watching the streets below for something, anything to happen. In the past few weeks he had prevented a collision between two teenage drivers, rescued a cat that had been treed by a dog, and righted and repaired a stop sign that a driver had knocked over before he'd gone on patrol.

Metropolis would probably be much more interesting, Harry kept reminding himself, though he had never bothered to stay there and check out the illegal goings-on at night. Metropolis was supposed to have "Superman," its new protector, guarding the city. From what Harry had been reading in the Smallville and Metropolis papers, Superman could fly, stop bullets with his bare skin, and lift tremendous weights like cars and trains with ease. There had even been mention in one of the stories of a rumor that he had caught the globe on the top of the Daily Planet building when it fell after an accident last year, returning it to the top of the building. Harry had checked out that globe one afternoon from beneath his Invisibility Cloak, and that would have been an impressive feat.

It would be interesting to meet this Superman some time, Harry decided, especially if he was really Clark Kent, as Harry suspected. Clark was stronger than any normal human Harry had ever met, capable of leaving a fingerprint in gunmetal; it wasn't much of a stretch to think he could leap to the top of tall buildings or even fly. Harry wondered if he could get Zatanna to introduce them.

It was likely that Zatanna knew Clark, or perhaps Lois, because Harry had caught a glimpse of an image in the witch's eyes when they had met a few weeks ago. The image had been either Clark or Lois — Harry couldn't be sure, even now after having reviewed it again and again in his own Pensieve. It was one of the reasons he wanted to find Zatanna again: to get into her head a bit more and find out about her magical abilities. Her magic was unique, as far as Harry could tell; she spoke incantations in backwards English, reversing the sounds of the words to cast spells. That was quite a departure from the usual method of verbal magic spells and wand gestures.

But Zatanna had seemingly disappeared. Harry had been to theaters and clubs in Metropolis, Star City and Gotham City, even traveling to more distant cities like Keystone City and Coast City, where she had apparently performed as well. Other than the fact that she had appeared and that her performances had seemed like regular Muggle magic tricks, no one knew much of anything about the woman.

He did get an interesting tidbit of information from a waitress in the Ace of Clubs in Metropolis: when Zatanna performed there a few years earlier she had mentioned living at an estate she called "Shadowcrest." Harry had searched records in all the cities he had visited but could find no mention of a Shadowcrest anywhere. That implied Shadowcrest was hidden just as his own home, number 12 Grimmauld Place, was hidden from Muggles.

Harry vanished from the roof of the Smallville Savings and Loan, reappearing a moment later on the top of the Talon. Here he had a better view of Main Street, as deserted as it was. Harry stifled a yawn; it was about time to pack it in for the night; he would have to be up in a few hours for his shift at the Talon.

The sound of metal against metal suddenly caught his attention. Harry moved to the edge of the roof, looking down into the alley behind the Talon. There were two teenaged boys below, poking around in the trash bins behind the coffee shop.

Harry watched them, wondering what they were up to. Were they looking for discarded food? Disgusting, Harry thought, but he felt sorry for the boys if they were trying to find something to eat by rooting around in trash. A moment later, however, it became evident what they were up to: the two boys heaved the trash bin over, throwing its contents across the alley. They then ran laughing out of the alley.

Harry considered going after them, but what was he going to do — make them return and pick up the spilled trash? If the boys complained to their parents or even the local police he might have to explain why he was up at two in the morning keeping an eye on the trash in back of the Talon. He wanted to keep a lower profile than that.

Harry Apparated into the alley. The trash was spread out across the alley, filling the area behind the Talon with a rank odor. Well, he could fix the mess, at least. Harry waved his wand once and the trash bin righted itself. With another wave the trash in the alley lifted into the air, collecting itself into a single mass of garbage that floated over the open bin and dropped into it. He might have simply Vanished it but the town's trash service would be by in a little while and they might as well earn the job they did. With a bit of concentration Harry Vanished the odor left behind instead, leaving the alley the way those two boys had found it. Harry shook his head, once again disappointed at the end of his patrol. No real bad guys had been caught tonight, like all the nights he'd been out before. Was that incident with the gunman merely a one-time thing, a fluke that had made things seem worse in Smallville than they really were?

Checking his detectors, Harry sensed no eyes, real or electronic, looking at him. He removed his Invisibility Cloak and stowed it in his pouch, then walked around to the side entrance of the Talon. Letting himself in, he trudged upstairs to his apartment. The cameras in the hallway had been disabled a week ago, so Harry turned the doorknob as he mentally cast Alohomora, unlocking and opening the door.

No one had shown up to replace the camera Harry had disabled several weeks ago, so he had begun a slow sweep of his apartment, disabling the cameras spying on him one by one. A little over half of them now had their lens covered in some way or another, or their electronics had "malfunctioned," rendering them unworkable and leaving a little over half of his apartment surveillance-free. It had been several days since the last one went bad; about time for another one to fail. Harry smiled to himself, wondering how many of them would have to fail before Luthor sent someone to find out what was going on with his spy gear.

Harry stepped into a camera-free area of his apartment, using Supersensory to decide which one of the remaining cameras he was going to take out. As he looked over the still-working cameras, however, he noticed a slight tingle from his spy detectors. If he'd been within the viewing area of any of the cameras he'd expect a tingle, but there weren't supposed to be any eyes on him where he was now. Getting a tingle now told him he was still being observed.

Had one of the disabled cameras managed to begin working again? He looked over each of them in turn; none of them were watching him. So where was that tingle coming from? Harry moved slowly toward one of the disabled cameras, still keeping himself out of range of the other working cameras. The tingle increased slightly. It also felt different than the tingle of electronic surveillance.

Harry's stomach was beginning to churn. He silently cast a magical detection spell at the disabled camera. The camera momentarily glowed a very dim blue. Damn! There was a very subtle magical scyring spell on the camera! Harry had disabled the camera, but the scyring spell had continued to observe him!

With magic like that, he had to suspect Zatanna was behind it. His investigation of her for the past few weeks suggested she was as good at real magic as she was at Muggle magic tricks.

But would she be working with Lex Luthor? When Harry met Luthor a few weeks ago, the man was radiating deception and untrustworthiness. Harry had come away with the impression that Luthor had bugged his apartment in order to find out more about him. Finding Zatanna's magic cast onto the cameras, however, seemed like overkill. If Zatanna knew both Clark and Luthor, she might be playing them against one another. Either that or it was just a coincidence that Zatanna and Luthor had both bugged him. Harry didn't really believe in coincidences any more.

He was going to have to redouble his efforts to find out more about Zatanna. To do that, Harry decided, he would need to infiltrate one of the magical bars that were in the larger cities in the area. And to do that, he was going to need to find out more about American witches and wizards, more than what the British Ministry of Magic knew about them, which was likely more propaganda than fact. The Ministry and the American Department of Magic had not had good relations with each other for centuries now, ever since the Americans had fought for and won their independence from Britain in the late 1700's.

He was going to have to gather some information about American wizarding customs if he was going to pass as one. That would wait for tomorrow, Harry decided. But for now…

Taking out his wand, Harry cast a powerful Anti-Scyring Charm. The charm would break all of the magical scyring spells in his apartment and burn out all of the cameras and microphones. There was no point in being subtle any more. This might bring Zatanna to him once she realized her spells had been broken. He cast additional wards that would alert him if there were any magical intrusion or further attempts to observe him, then turned in for the night, thinking about what he would have to do to learn about what American wizards expected when they went out for a good time.

=ooo=

Ron and Hermione appeared in the entrance hall of their home, the only place in the house not protected by anti-Apparition and Portkey wards. Lily and Hugo were still at the Burrrow, having cajoled their parents into staying for the weekend, something Ron had subtly talked James and Albus into suggesting to them. It was convenient for the children to stay there since it allowed their parents to put the plan Hermione had devised into action, a plan that Ron half-jokingly referred to as Operation: Where's Harry Potter.

"Right, then," Hermione said, turning to him. "Your bag is all packed." She gave him a small pouch similar to the one she had carried for many years now. In it was clothing for several days, food that would last at least as long, and both wizarding and Muggle currency for incidentals as well as an array of devices used by Aurors in the field.

"Thanks," Ron said, accepting the pouch. "Now are you going to tell me how you're going to find out where Harry's got off to?"

"I thought you might remember," Hermione said with a look of amusement on her face. "After all, you were there."

"Where?" Ron asked, not following her.

"Do you remember the mokeskin pouch Hagrid gave to Harry for his 17th birthday?"

Ron's brows were furrowed with confusion. "I guess so. But what's that got to do with finding him now?"

"When he showed it to me after, I checked it out a bit," Hermione answered. "It could hold more than its size suggested but not a lot more, so I suggested putting an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, the same as I had done with my own bag. Harry agreed and he temporarily gave me the bag so I could cast the charm.

"When I did that," Hermione continued, "I realized it would be good if we could locate Harry's bag if he should lose it for any reason. I added a location charm to the interior of the bag, where it could only be detected by someone casting a detection charm on the interior of the bag."

"Brilliant as usual," Ron said, impressed by his wife's depth of magical knowledge, even after all these years of being with her. "So, assuming Harry still has that bag, which is a safe assumption as I know he keeps it with him all the time, we should be able to locate him by locating that bag."

"Correct," Hermione agreed. "My only concern is that his personal detection spells may notice when I cast the locator spell. If that's the case you'll have to find him as quickly as possible, before he finds the charm and removes it from his pouch."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Ron assured her. "If he's close enough I can Apparate to where he is. If not I'll find someplace I can go to in the direction of the locator. Just tell me what spell you're going to use to locate the pouch."

Hermione gave him the spell, then readied her wand to cast it. "Comperius Harry's pouch!" she incanted, and her wand turned slowly in her hand, pointing westward and downward. "Oh, dear," she said in a small voice.

"Well, that can't be good," Ron observed. The angle of Hermione's wand suggested that Harry was underground. "Do you think someone's holding him prisoner somewhere?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. The locator was very weak, as if Harry is very far away. My wand is pointed directly toward the pouch; if Harry were somewhere in Europe or Scandinavia, the angle would still be downward but not as steep as we just saw, and not toward the west. I think Harry is further away than we suspected."

"But there's nothing to the west except the ocean and —" Ron began, then realized what she was getting at. "Oh, hell. D'you think he went to America?"

"It would be the perfect place for him to hide," Hermione argued. "No one would think an Auror would go there to hide." Ron nodded agreement. They weren't exactly chummy with the Americans; unauthorized Aurors found in America were detained for weeks before being returned to Britain. America fortunately did not have a prison like Azkaban but it still wasn't a pleasant experience to spend weeks wandless in a small cell, given meager food rations and constantly interrogated to determine why they were in America. The Americans were never too happy when British agents went roaming around their territories, for whatever reason.

"What do you think?" he asked her. "Do you think we should try to find him now?" It was one thing to pop over to France or Sweden, find Harry and pop back to Britain, but quite another to jump across the ocean trying to find Harry wherever he might be in America.

Hermione looked conflicted. "I don't know," she said slowly. "The Ministry doesn't need another incident with the Americans over incursions into their territories, but we're already at risk if Harry's over there right now. The Department of Magic knows who he is and that he's the former Head Auror." She gave Ron a look of determination. "I think you should try to find him and get him to come home. If you can do that without attracting the attention of the Americans, we can avoid a problem we don't need."

"Right, then," Ron nodded. "I'll go. But what are we going to do about getting me over there? America's a big country and Harry might be anywhere."

"I can handle that," Hermione said confidently. "And I have just the place for you to start." She walked into their living room, over to her writing desk, and picked up a spare quill. "When I was nine, Mum and Dad took me on a trip to the United States. We visited New York, but I remember they really wanted to see this place in the center of the country. We flew into this city called Metropolis and then drove several hours to the place. I was really quite excited to see it, I remember. I can still visualize the place."

"Ah," Ron nodded. He saw what she was getting at. "So you're going to set up a Portkey to take me there."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She took a moment to recall the place in her mind, then tapped the quill, saying "Portus." The quill flashed blue.

She handed him the quill, saying "The Portkey will activate in one minute. Remember," she said urgently. "You have to talk Harry into coming home, Ron! Whatever the problems between him and Ginny are, I can advise him and his solicitor on Wizarding law and his rights in a divorce proceeding."

"Okay," Ron said. On impulse he hugged her tightly. After a moment Hermione hugged him back, and they remained that way for most of the remaining minute. With only a few seconds left Ron let her go and stepped back. "I'll see you soon, love."

Hermione's eyes were bright. "See you soon," she echoed. Ron smiled at her, then in a whirlwind of color and whooshing wind he vanished. "Hurry back," she whispered to the empty room.

=ooo=

After Harry's Friday morning shift at the Talon he left the building, telling the other employees he would return later that day, but he then immediately Apparated to the hidden room in his apartment where he had set up a small magical potions laboratory and safe room using supplies kept in his pouch. The hidden room was charmed with every magical ward and protection spell he knew. After reading about Superman's X-ray vision he had added, not lead lining but a spell that made the room seem like a small space behind the wall, not like a room at all. If Superman were to find a lead-lined space the size of this room, it would certainly seem suspicious!

In the middle of the room was the long table he had Transfigured to use for his potion-making. At one end was his Pensieve. It wasn't nearly as big as the Pensieve Professor Dumbledore had owned, back when Harry was a student at Hogwarts, but he hadn't lived nearly as long as the Headmaster had. His cauldron, fashioned from Corinthian bronze, was near the other end. A high-grade alloy of silver and copper, it was one of the more expensive cauldrons made, necessary for top-quality potions work. His scales were accurate from .01 gram to 10 kilograms. He had removed the cupboards from his pouch and fastened them to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. Only he would be able to remove them when the time came for him to leave this place, whenever that might be. The store of ingredients in the cupboards were warded from the effects of becoming stale or unusable by Freshening Charms, though Harry would eventually have to replenish his supplies in the long term.

Other devices acquired during his days in the Auror office were stored here as well. His Scyring Glass, a large round mirror with a polished oaken frame was nearby as he stood at the Potions table. Behind him was his Foe Glass, a tall, thin mirror on a floor frame that warned him if his enemies were closing in on him. Nearby was a smaller table with several silver devices placed on them.

The cauldron had been brewing a potion for the past 12 hours, a potion that Harry needed to put himself in the proper mental state if he was going to find magical locations hidden in Metropolis. The Scyring Potion would heighten his magical senses, allowing him to view sources of magical energy over a large area of the city. Aurors had been using the potion for centuries to help them find potential centers of Dark magic.

Harry added the final ingredient to the potion: a small amount of dirt from the center of the city, gathered just as the last rays of sunshine faded in the sunset, and stirred it carefully: ten clockwise stirs followed by three anti-clockwise ones, then five more clockwise. The potions color changed from a milky white to a lustrous vermillion, indicating it was ready to drink. Harry tipped the cauldron into a crystal goblet, staring at it for long seconds as he recalled its rather repugnant taste, then steeled himself and drank it down.

He shuddered and barely avoided retching as the reddish liquid went down his throat. It wouldn't do to waste any of the potion — he would need as much time as possible to find all of the magical hot-spots in Metropolis. He stepped in front of the Scyring Glass as the potion began to take effect.

Harry held up his hands, palms toward the mirror. "Revelares arcanas magorum Metropolis!" he said. An image of the city began to form in the mirror, viewed as if from a great height above it. As he stared into the mirror his eyes began to shine with their own light. The potion was beginning to work, increasing his ability to perceive magical energies. Locations with the city began to glow, dimly at first, but with increasing power as he continued to stare into the Scyring Glass.

There were not very many, which would give him time to study each of them in more detail. The Scyring Potion allowed him to see magical auras, revealing the inclinations and motivations of the wizards generating them. Lighter colors such as gold, green and blue indicated a person inclined toward good, while reds, purples and browns showed someone leaning toward the dark. There was one concentration of those colors in the area known as Suicide Slums. Harry mentally noted its position for future reference, but his primary concern now was to find where the "average" American wizard hung out in Metropolis.

There were a number of magical hangouts around Metropolis, but the largest concentration was, ironically, only a few blocks from the Daily Planet building, in an area called the Plaza. Harry could just make out the name of the place, a restaurant and club called "Magic Hall." The mix of auras in the place showed it to be frequented by mostly good wizards with a few weedier elements hanging out there as well. He would start there, Harry decided, letting the effects of the Scyring Potion fade and end.

Moments later Harry had arrived beneath the cover of his Invisibility Cloak in a dead-end alley near the Daily Planet. He walked out of the alley, still invisible, and maneuvered his way toward the Plaza, avoiding as best he could the sidewalks full of people hustling and bustling their way to wherever they were going. It was slow going at first trying to avoid walking into people and being walked into until Harry reminded himself of an obvious solution: he cast a Muggle-repelling charm on himself, then continued on his way in relative ease as people moved aside at his approach. Someone watching from a bird's-eye view might have noticed a gap in the crowd moving along the sidewalk as people parted and converged around an invisible Harry.

The Plaza was a four-square block area of retail stores, dining establishments and nightclubs. It was slightly less crowded at this time of day, the middle of the afternoon — between lunch and dinner. There was a sign where a former nightclub, Club Metro, had been located, now defunct. But if you were a wizard, and you looked between the building and its nearest neighbor, a small ice cream shop, you would see another building widen between them, with a somewhat shabby-looking door and a glowing sign above it saying, "Magic halL." Harry sat down on a handy bench, leaving the Muggle-repelling charm on him so no one would accidentally sit down on him, and watched, waiting for someone to walk out of that door.

=ooo=

Friday evening in the center of Metropolis, in the tallest building in the city, a group of people met to discuss their mutual interest — the protection of the citizens of Metropolis, the United States and the world.

Watchtower, the code name for the top floor of the building, was a large loft apartment fitted with the latest surveillance and communications equipment available. Other, more powerful devices had been retrofitted into the system's network, giving Watchtower the capability of linking seamlessly into any computer system in the world, downloading and assimilating information at incredible speeds.

But Watchtower was not solely a base of operations. It also featured a small kitchen, complete with refrigerator, oven and dishwasher, and there was a hallway leading from the main room to a bath and a spacious bedroom. A sectional had been placed in the center of the room, arranged in a circle so the members could sit and talk with each other.

Eight members of the team, which had taken to calling itself the Justice League in recognition of its inspiration, the original team of the Justice Society of America, were present: Clark Kent, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, John Jones, Zatanna, Chloe Sullivan, Emil Hamilton, the team's medical supervisor, and Lois Lane. All of them were dressed in civilian clothing. The meeting had not been called to order yet; the members were engaged in idle conversations about their recent activities and the current gossip from around town.

"I don't know how we're ever going to find an apartment in Metropolis," Clark was grumbling to Oliver. "We've been looking for weeks now and nothing we've seen feels right so far."

"There are condos available in this building," Oliver said, a smile quirking his lips. "I'm sure Chloe and I could put a word in for you —"

"Outside our price range," Clark shook his head. "We're reporters, not playboy billionaires."

"Hey, I didn't buy this place, Jimmy did," Oliver protested, referring to Jimmy Olsen, Chloe's previous husband, who had been killed two years ago by Davis Bloome.

"I know that." Clark had never figured out where Jimmy got the money to buy Watchtower; the place must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars even without all of the specialized equipment in it. He shrugged. "Lois and I will figure out something."

"Figure out what?" Lois, who had been talking with Chloe and Zatanna, walked up to Clark, putting an arm around his waist.

"Where to find an apartment," Clark told her. "Oliver suggested we could get a condo in this building." He didn't sound too enthused by the idea.

"Well, it's not far from the Planet," Lois said, smiling at the look of dismay that came over Clark's face. "Relax, Clark. We'll find something soon."

"We should start the meeting before Clark's head explodes," Oliver observed, grinning. Everyone gathered in the center of the room. "Chloe?"

Chloe Sullivan Queen, codenamed Watchtower, made a gesture that the interface software recognized as the signal to begin recording the meeting. "I call this meeting of the League to order," she said, her voice brisk but friendly. "Present are Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Zatanna Zatara, Oliver Queen, Chloe Queen, Dinah Lance, John Jones and Dr. Emil Hamilton. We can dispense with the review of the previous meeting, I presume?"

There were nods of assent from the others. Chloe gestured again and a holographic image appeared in the air above them: a histogram of crime statistics from the cities in their sphere of influence. "First item on our agenda is our effect on crime. Metropolis is showing a 4.1 percent drop in violent crimes in the past three months. The three-year average for this quarter is a 1.3 percent rise. Star City, Coast City and Gotham show similar drops."

"Not surprised at Gotham," Oliver remarked. "With the Bat there even I'd be afraid to go out at night."

"Batman is aware of our activities and our costumed personas," John Jones commented. "He would not interfere if you were to prevent a crime while in costume, Oliver."

"Sure," Oliver murmured. He didn't sound convinced of that. "So what are Metropolis's finest saying lately, John?"

John Jones, codenamed the Martian Manhunter, had worked at the Metropolis Police Department for several years now. "Publicly they support our new protector," Jones replied, "but privately there is concern over the presence on Earth of a being with the power Superman seems to possess. Efforts have been initiated to procure samples of kryptonite as a fail-safe contingency should the Man of Steel go rogue."

"That sounds about right," Dinah Lance muttered cynically. Dr. Hamilton shook his head disbelievingly.

"I can't really blame them," Clark said. "If something were to cause me to become unstable or violent I would have to be stopped." He looked around the room. "You should all be prepared to do what you need to do to stop me if it becomes necessary."

"Well there's a cheery thought," Oliver quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll get right to work on a kryptonite arrow." A moment later Chloe caught his eye and silently mouthed, Shut up, Ollie.

She turned back to the others. "Several disasters have been averted in the past few weeks. There was a prison break outside Star City that was stopped by Green Arrow and Black Canary. When several levees broke in Coast City due to Hurricane Nellie, Aquaman was able to keep the waters from flooding the city. And there was an earthquake in Panama that threatened to destroy the Canal, but it was saved by Superman."

Arthur Curry wasn't present for the meeting, but Clark, Oliver and Dinah silently nodded acknowledgement, neither expecting or receiving praise for their work. It was what they did, why they were here; to revel in or self-aggrandize their accomplishments would have an insult to all the other heroes who had gone before them.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Chloe said, reluctance in her voice. "There has been a lot of radio and television talk, as well as people texting and tweeting, about the 'Contact Event' — a lot of what they say expresses fear and uncertainty over the existence of aliens on other planets." Clark and John glanced at each other — both of them were aliens from other worlds.

"People will become used to the idea in time," Dr. Hamilton spoke up, offering his opinion. "Right now it is fresh in their minds and associated with negative emotions and global upheaval."

"Some would say — a global apocalypse," Lois added.

"Yes," Hamilton nodded. "No one can deny that many people feel the world will end in a rather dramatic fashion — whether it is from a meteor, or a planet colliding with ours, or the arrival of a celestial being." His eyes flicked momentarily to Clark. "I personally believe one of the former will occur before the latter does."

"Thanks, Emil," Chloe said. "Well, that's all I have for now. Are there any other items the team would like to discuss?"

"I do," Zatanna said, leaning forward and putting her glass of white wine on the table in front of her. "I paid a little visit to Smallville a few weeks ago to check up on its newest inhabitant." She looked at Clark. "Harry Evans."

Lois turned to Clark. "You sent Zatanna to spy on him? What for?"

"Not spy," Clark said defensively. "It was just a feeling I had about him. I wasn't sure why someone would come to live in Smallville just because some stranger suggested it to him on a plane ride."

Lois beamed at him. "Clark Kent, are you jealous?"

"What? No!" Clark quickly denied. "It was just that — well I saw — you see — he was —"

"Spit it out, Smallville," Lois ordered.

"I saw him talking to Luthor," Clark blurted. "I was flying over Kansas and I saw Luthor's car sitting in front of the Talon. When I looked inside I saw them talking."

Chloe was biting her lower lip. "That doesn't sound good at all," she said worriedly.

"Right!" Clark immediately agreed. "I thought we should see what Harry had to say about it, but I didn't want to confront him myself, so I asked Zatanna to have a talk with him." Lois was giving him a disapproving stare.

"Well, I never got around to asking him about Luthor, but it's a good thing Clark did send me," Zatanna said, wryly. "Turns out our friend Harry Evans is a wizard."

"What?" Clark was stunned by that revelation. "You mean he's like you?"

"More or less," Zatanna shrugged. "Though he's from wizarding Britain, and most of them are not in the same league as me. Not bragging, just the facts, man."

"Is he a threat?" Jones asked, his voice hard.

Zatanna laughed. "Oh, hardly. He's sort of like the Big Blue Boy Scout here —" she jerked a thumb at Clark, who frowned at the nickname "— was, before he put on his longjohns and starting flying around saving everyone in sight. He's running around at night trying to protect Smallville from all of the crime going on in those means streets." She giggled softly. "It's kind of endearing, really. Too bad he doesn't really know what he's doing."

"Can we train him?" Oliver asked. "Could he be an asset for the League, sort of an advance guard in Smallville if we needed someone there?"

"He has skills," Zatanna said. "He's probably better trained than the average British wizard. And he has a cool invisibility cloak — I couldn't find him with my usual detection magic until he pulled back his hood."

"He shouldn't be told about us just yet," John Jones warned. "We need to know what he and Luthor talked about, what his motivations are."

"Well, unfortunately he discovered the magical detection spells I placed on Luthor's surveillance cameras in his apartment just the other night," Zatanna went on. "He was disabling the cameras and microphones one by one and eventually came across my scyring spells. He disabled everything and put up wards protecting him from magical observation, so he knows somebody's onto him."

"Does he know it was you?" Chloe asked.

"Well, that would be a reasonable deduction," Zatanna replied. "So far I'm probably the only magical he's met. There aren't any other wizards in Smallville. He's also been trying to gather intel on me in various cities in the area — mostly the clubs where I've performed over the past few years."

"Has he been having any luck?" Oliver wondered.

"Some," Zatanna shrugged. "It's no big secret that I perform stage shows around the country. But that won't help him find me — I don't leave anything at any of clubs I work in that could be used to trace me back to a specific location. Even if he knew about Shadowcrest, he could never find it — I have it too well protected for a Brit wizard to ever find it."

"What about this, then," Oliver suggested. "Approach him just before our next meeting and ask what he thinks about working with you. Find out if he's really interested in being a hero or if he's just playing around at it. Report back to us and we'll decide what to do then."

"Can do, chief," Zatanna said, with a jaunty half-salute. "Well, if that's all we have for tonight I have a gig in St. Louis in 15 minutes. See you all later." She vanished.

"I always thought it would be cool to be able to teleport like that," Clark commented to Lois after Zatanna left.

"Says the man that can fly," Oliver deadpanned.

"It's not the same thing at all," Clark pointed out, still being serious.

"Of course it's not," Oliver agreed. "You just zip into the air and zoom across the country in a few seconds. Not the same thing at all."

Dinah and Lois were refilling their coffee cups. "Did you sense anything special about this Harry Evans when you first met him?" Dinah was asking. Lois had told her and Zatanna the story about meeting him on her flight back from London weeks ago.

"Oh, I don't know," Lois shrugged, sipping at her warmed coffee. "At first I thought he was kind of a jerk — he tried to make me get out of the seat I was in on the plane."

"But you were in the wrong seat," Dinah pointed out. "It was really his seat, wasn't it?"

"He could have been a little nicer about it," Lois said shortly, but then shrugged. "Yes, it was my bad, I suppose. And if he is like Zatanna, it might be interesting to know what he thinks of the wizards and sorcerers here in America. I wonder if he'd consent to an interview if I kept his name out of the piece…?"

=ooo=

Author's Notes on Zatanna's Magic: Zatanna is a Homo magi, a human born with the affinity to manipulate magic. In this regard she is similar to Harry and other wizards, both British and worldwide. However, the Homo magi race have a much greater affinity for magic than other wizards. Her unique genetic structure allows her to use natural magic, magic she was born with as well as learned magic. As a tribute to her father, and as a focus, she casts spells by speaking backwards. For example, saying "Pots" would cause the target of the spell to stop in their tracks.

Zatanna speaks the entire incantation backwards to focus her magic. Therefore, the spell "Conjure me a margarita!" becomes "Atiragram a em erujnoc!" to evoke her magic.

Zatanna is also a skilled stage magician, able to perform feats of prestidigitation and legerdermain. In fact, this was her primary career before learning of her magical heritage and how to use her innate magical powers and abilities.

Zatanna is capable of using learned magic such as Harry and other wizards use. She can use a wand just as Harry does. In her magical home, Shadowcrest, she has an extensive library of books and devices that will allow her to do "just about anything you want," as she puts it. These spells and devices allow her to raise the dead, create gold and jewels, and create or transport living beings from other realities or dimensions.

Consequently, Zatanna's magic is much more powerful than the learned magic of British witches and wizards. If she and Harry had fought the first time they met, she would have had no trouble defeating him, even with his years of Auror training and experience.