Harry Potter Returns
A Harry Potter/Superman Returns Crossover
Chapter Fourteen
Where's Harry?
Updated 11 February 2011
Ron entered the Academy Library Saturday evening for the tenth time that day, feeling rather frustrated with his friend Harry Potter. Harry had told him, yesterday, that he would be in the Library working on a project that he wanted to get done so he could have the weekend free.
That was the last Ron had seen of him.
It wasn't like Harry to duck out on him, Ron knew. They were best mates, after all! Although, he reconsidered, there were times when he just didn't feel like being around Harry — it was hard to hang out with the Boy Who Lived. Not because he was jealous, of course — he'd already dealt with his share of jealousy, what with being the younger brother of Bill and Charlie Weasley, who were both smart and popular — Bill was a Cursebreaker at Gringotts, and Charlie worked with dragons in Romania, both very cool jobs in Ron's estimation (although he'd never, ever want to be around dragons, not after watching the first task at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, during his fourth year).
Then there was Fred and George. Popular in school, and now the successful owners of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, a money-spinning enterprise if ever there was one, in their hands. No, Ron had no reason to be jealous of Harry — he already had plenty of reasons just within his own family!
He'd come with Harry, Hermione and his sister Ginny, here to this magical Academy in America, mostly to get away from that — to be with his friends and do something different with his life than his older brothers had. This kind of magic — American magic — also seemed to grate on his mother, and while he had no desire to hurt her, it brought a smile to his lips sometimes, thinking of her wringing her hands anxiously as they left for the Academy. Even so, he recalled with a frown, he was in last place amongst the four for learning new magic. Oh, he had some pretty cool new spells memorized, but he could only cast the simplest of them wandlessly. Harry was taking to this magic like a fish to water, as was Hermione. Even Ginny could cast her Bat-Bogey Hex without a wand now, as their roommate Dalton had found out last night, when he began to annoy her in the cafeteria during dinner. It had been pretty funny watching him screaming in panic as the bogeys emerged and flapped around him, slapping him in the face and shoulders.
Ron came upon a small alcove in the Library. There was a table covered with books, and one boy sitting at the table, reading. The boy, with black hair and glasses, looked up, and Ron thought he'd found Harry — until he recognized the kid. It was one of the first-years, but not the one Harry was friendly with — that Ricky something-or-other; no, this kid was another bookworm — Ron saw him going in and out of the Library all the time. Was he one of the gaggle of boys who kept following Harry around, trying to be friends with him? Ron couldn't remember. But it couldn't hurt to see if he knew what had become of Harry.
"Hey, Jon Clark!" Ron said. "Have you seen Harry lately?"
Twelve-year old Clark Kent looked at Ron for several moments. He had been reading through the book in front of him at super-speed, and had slowed to normal just as Ron poked his head in the alcove. "Um, n-no," he said, timidly, staying within his normal Jon Clark persona. When he'd really been twelve years old Clark had been more gregarious and outgoing, but he would only be here another month or so, until he'd finished reading the books in the Library. It was best, he thought, if he kept to himself and quietly disappeared when he finished his studies.
"Damn," Ron muttered to himself. He looked at Clark again. "When's the last time you saw him? Yesterday? The day before?"
The last time Clark had seen Harry, they'd talked for several hours about a great number of things, things Harry had seemed eager to discuss with him. Clark wasn't sure how Ron would react to him and Harry spending time together, especially since Harry had referred to Ron as his "best mate." But, Ron had seen them talking in the corridors every so often, so he just said, "It's been a few days."
Ron sensed some hesitance in Clark's reply. Did he know something he wasn't telling? A horrible thought occurred to him. "Hey," he said, his voice going hard. "Do you know anything about Harry and — Ginny Weasley?"
Clark stared at him a moment. Ron's sister? He knew Harry wasn't interested in her — was that what Ron wanted to hear? Brothers were often protective of their younger sisters. "Uh, no," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think he's interested in her, if that's what you're asking."
Oddly, Ron seemed to take offense at this. "What do you know about it, kid?" he snapped. "Ginny's a great person!"
"I know," Clark said. Harry had talked about her as well.
"Whaddaya mean, you know?" Ron asked, suspiciously.
"I mean," Clark amended, hastily. "I mean, everybody says so."
"And you're sure there's nothing going on between them, as far as you know?" Ron pressed.
"Y-yes," Clark agreed.
"How can you be so sure?" Ron challenged him, stepping up to the table and looming over Clark threateningly. "How do you know he's not after Ginny?"
"He — he told me he liked Clea," Clark said, hoping that this would prevent Ron from grabbing or hitting him. He didn't want to hurt Ron, even accidentally.
Ron looked confused for a moment. "Clea? I don't know any girls in school here named Clea —"
"She's that blonde substitute teacher," Clark offered. Ron looked nonplussed for a moment, then grinned broadly.
"Harry's got a crush on a teacher?" he said, almost beaming with joy. It still didn't explain where he was, but the idea that even Harry could have some loony, impractical desires made Ron feel better. He smiled at Clark. "Well, if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him, okay?"
"O-okay," Clark nodded, and Ron walked away, whistling happily. Clark leaned back in his chair, smiling softly at the priorities of youth. He resumed reading at super-speed. Only forty-seven more books to go before he was finished for the night.
=ooo=
Harry leapt high in the air, evading the blast of magic force that destroyed the spot he'd been standing on, and threw a bolt of magic lightning at his opponent. She deflected it with a casual gesture and riposted with another force blast, one which Harry, still in midair, had to twist awkwardly to avoid. He teleported, hoping to come down to one side of her and attack again, but she anticipated the move and sent binding rings that immobilized him. In the moment it took Harry to vanish the rings, Clea had stepped up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "You're out!" she said, her face flushed with triumph.
"Damn!" Harry sighed in mixed resignation and frustration. "That was the longest fight we've had so far, at least."
"Yes," Clea agreed, looking around their training area. "It was." The room looked like it had just been through a war — which was exactly what Harry was being prepared for. "But that's going to be no time at all when Dormammu shows up, I'm afraid. He's not going to give you rest breaks and best out of three tries to beat him."
"I know it," Harry said, irritably. Ever since he'd been brought to the Dark Dimension, what seemed to him like six months ago, he'd heard about nothing but Clea's uncle, the powerful being who once ruled this dimension. Details had remained sketchy on how Clea came to rule it, but the people here seemed to prefer her over him, from what little Harry had picked here and there from Clea's minions.
For the most part, Harry had spent his time training in magic — powerful magic, different from both the British and American systems. Magic was plentiful in the Dark Dimension; one could almost feel the very air pulsing with it. Harry's already considerable magical ability, augmented by his Kryptonian powers, had increased even more the longer he stayed in the Dark Dimension's environment.
Not that he wanted to, mind you.
"After I help you stop him, you're going to send me back home, right?" Harry asked once again. Clea gave him a look of disappointment.
"Yes, I keep telling you, yes," she said, annoyed. "Why must you keep bringing that up?"
"Because nothing's happening with this Dormammu bloke," Harry said, exasperated. "I thought you said he was going to attack soon!"
"My uncle is quite shrewd," Clea told him. "I'm sure he knows I have you here, helping me. He is likely evaluating his best means of attacking us and neutralizing the advantage having you here gives me."
"Great," Harry said, sarcastically. "So what if he decides not to attack, because I'm here?"
"Oh, he'll attack," Clea assured him. "He wants the Dark Dimension back more than anything. It's a point of personal pride with him."
"Just how did you gain control of this place from him?" Harry asked, once again curious to know.
Clea waved away the question. "It's too long to go into, and I'm bored with talking for now — we need to practice more." She assumed an attack position.
Harry didn't move. "Well, I'm bored with fighting," he said, crossing his arms and looking stubborn.
Clea looked amused. "You mean you're bored with losing!" In fact, she giggled as she said this. "Come on, Harry, you need to practice if you're going to get any better!"
But Harry had just noticed something. "What's that you're wearing?" he asked, pointing to a golden pendant hanging from Clea's neck, resting between her firm, full breasts. (Harry had noticed those as well, but as he'd been kidnapped by Clea he was not inclined to otherwise react to them.)
"This?" Clea touched the pendant. "Just a gift from Stephen, back when we were together."
"I've never seen you wear it before," Harry recalled.
Clea shrugged. "Time heals all wounds, I suppose — I recently decided to start wearing it again." Her manner turned businesslike. "Anyway, it's not relevant to what you and I are doing, Harry. Now, are you going to train with me or would you prefer to go back to your room?"
Since there was absolutely nothing of interest in his room, and since after Clea tired of training she usually allowed him time in the palace libraries, Harry shrugged and assumed a position of defense. Eventually, he hoped, he would come up with a way out of this place.
=ooo=
Hermione wasn't in the Library (Ron had already searched through most of it by the time he found Clark), but he eventually found her in her dorm room. As usual for a Saturday evening, she was there alone, studying. Ron shook his head slightly, bemused by her intensity. He had worried for a while that she had infected Harry with some kind of learning sickness, what with all the time Harry had been spending in the Library — it was good to know he had some normal interests, even if it was to sneak out and snog a teacher!
"Psst!" Ron hissed, from the doorway. She looked up from her book. "D'you want to hear something interesting?"
"What?" she asked, looking mildly interested. Ron motioned for her to come to the door, but she stayed at her study desk, an impatient look on her face.
"You can come in, Ron," she told him, looking back to her book. "This isn't Hogwarts — there's no restrictions on boys being in girls dorms."
"Oh, yeah," Ron said, stepping into the room and looking around. It was a two-bed dorm room; Hermione's side was very tidy and clean, while the other girl's bed was somewhat rumpled and had a few odd blouses and shoes lying about. There was a haphazard pile of books on the other girl's desk as well, while Hermione's was clear except for a pen holder and a tablet for notes.
"What's the news?" Hermione asked suddenly, making Ron start.
He recovered and grinned at her. "Who do you think Harry likes?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Did he tell you?"
"No," Ron admitted. "But I talked to that first year, Jon Clark —"
"You mean sixth grader, Ron," Hermione reminded him.
"Whatever. I saw him in the Library a while ago, and that's where Harry was supposed to be last night, working on some project."
"What project was that?" Hermione looked anxious for a moment. "I don't remember any teacher assigning projects lately!"
"That's the point," Ron said, smugly. "He didn't have a project, he was going on a date and he didn't want anyone to know!"
"And you know this, how?" Hermione asked, still not convinced.
"Well, it only makes sense, doesn't it?" Ron replied, slightly exasperated by her attitude. "I still can't find him — he's been gone since last night!"
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm, I wondered why I hadn't seen him yet today. Ginny and I were talking this morning at breakfast —"
"About what?" Ron asked.
"Oh —" Hermione appeared flustered for a moment. "Just girl stuff. So, who does Harry like?" she asked, quickly.
"You're never going to believe it," Ron said, in a teasing manner.
"Just tell me," she said, in a flat tone that Ron knew meant she was losing patience.
"It's that substitute teacher, Clea," he said, but his triumphant grin slowly disappeared at the look on her face upon hearing this.
"You're joking," she said, disbelievingly.
"No," he shook his head. "That kid Clark told me he liked her."
Hermione was shaking her head disbelievingly. "Oh dear, I warned him about her! I didn't think he was that interested in her!"
"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked, a bit indignant. "She's a bit old for him, but six or seven years isn't that big a deal, is it?"
"Ron, you don't get it," Hermione told him. "There are rumors about her — dark rumors."
"What do you mean?"
"For one thing, she's not twenty-two or twenty-three, like she appears to be, but more like a thousand years old."
Now Ron looked at her disbelievingly. "Well, she's aging well, if that's true," he finally said, jokingly. "But even something like the Philosopher's Stone couldn't keep people young forever, could it — you can make the elixir that keeps you alive forever, but you'd still get older, right?"
"Right," Hermione agreed. "You'd need much more powerful magic to keep you eternally young. But that's part of the rumors as well. Clea is supposed to be from an entirely different universe, altogether, one where they have much more powerful magic."
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "Harry can sure pick 'em!"
"It's not funny, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "If you're right, and Harry was meeting Clea yesterday night, then she may have done something with him."
"Well, if she's so bloody powerful," Ron wondered. "What would she want with Harry?"
"Did you forget what happened with Harry's magic recently?" Hermione pointed out. "He said it increased somehow, so that he could do a lot of things normal wizards can't, like fly."
"Oh yeah," Ron remembered. "D'you think that's why Clea was interested in him, then?"
"Well, I don't know why else," Hermione answered. "Well, you know what I mean," she added, realizing how that sounded.
"What's up?" another voice asked, from the hallway outside Hermione's dorm, and they both turned to see Ginny standing there.
"I found out who Harry likes!" Ron said immediately.
"Ron, wait —" Hermione began, but Ginny cut over her.
"You did, huh? So who is it?"
"That substitute teacher, Clea."
Ginny didn't react for several seconds. "Well," she said at last, slowly. "That's interesting. How'd you come up with this?"
"Jon Clark told me earlier tonight," Ron said, quite oblivious to Ginny's reaction to the news. "Isn't that bloody wild? Who'd have thought Harry would go for her? Hermione's been telling me some rumors about this Clea person, but they seem mental — wait, what?" Ron stopped as Ginny suddenly turned and walked away, disappearing down the corridor. "What's up with her?" he asked Hermione.
"Ron," Hermione said, quietly. "I tried to stop you earlier. Ginny likes Harry, too."
"What?" Ron gasped, flabbergasted by this revelation. "You're joking!"
"No, I'm not," she responded, beginning to sound angry. "She thought perhaps the reason he wanted her to come to the Academy with us was so they could get to know each other better. "
Ron was still processing the idea. "My sister, and Harry Potter?" He shook his head. That just seemed so wrong, somehow. "I dunno about that…"
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione looked even more miffed by his comment. "It's not up to you, is it? It's up to them!"
"Harry's never said a word about liking Ginny," Ron pointed out.
"Harry's never said a word about liking anybody," Hermione retorted. ""He liked Cho Chang, but you had to practically pull his teeth out to get him to talk about her, much less to her!"
"He's talked about Luna Lovegood," Ron remembered.
"Really? What did he say about her?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Well —" Ron searched his memories for things Harry had said about Luna. "He thought she was interesting."
"Because he's too polite to call her 'Loony,' like most people at Hogwarts did," Hermione answered. "Even you've called her that."
"Well, she is an odd duck," Ron answered, defensively. "Anyway," he said, going back to Ginny. "How long has she liked him?"
"Since the day she met him, in the kitchen at the Burrow," Hermione answered.
"Well, she hardly met him then," Ron laughed. "She took one look at him and ran back upstairs. And for a long time she hardly said a word when he was around — normally she'd talk nonstop… oh…hell," Ron finally saw what Hermione was getting at. "Wow, I never saw that."
Well, it doesn't matter much now," Hermione said, shrugging. "Harry's got a girlfriend, that's the end of it."
Ron looked skeptical. "You don't know my sister — if she really wants something, she can be relentless."
"Oh, I know she can," Hermione agreed. "But she might want Harry to be onboard with the idea as well."
"Maybe, maybe not," Ron said. That was what scared him. When his sister got in her head she wanted something, she usually got it. He'd have to warn Harry to be on guard against whatever Ginny might try to get him to like her.
=ooo=
Sunday arrived, clear but cold in the Montana wilderness where the Academy was secreted. Clark, having had lunch with Ricky and several other sixth graders, felt like having some "alone" time rather than reading in the Library. He put on a jacket (for appearances' sake) and went for a walk, ostensibly along one of the paths surrounding the Academy that were made for that purpose.
As soon as he was alone, however, Clark disappeared into the brush, running faster and faster until he was almost a blur speeding through the woodlands. A short time later he slowed and came to a halt at the familiar bluff overlooking the canyon near the edge of the Academy grounds. He had come to regard this place as his "Bluff of Solitude" — a meager substitute for his Fortress, but while he was incognito as a twelve year old it would suffice.
Clark sat down cross-legged on the grass overlooking the canyon, the one with the train trestle that he and Harry slowed the runaway train that was threatening to derail over it, several weeks ago. That had been the last time he'd really talked with Harry — the environment at the school didn't encourage twelve and sixteen-years to interact much, whatever Professor Potter thought of the merits of doing so.
He sighed; he had been at the Academy a little over two months now, attending a few classes and interacting with his age peers, including Ricky Dolan, Lana's son, but mostly, Clark had spent his time in the Academy Library, reading. He'd gone through thousands of books of magic in that time, his super-brain correlating all the different spells and wards that wizards used, analyzing them from a mostly defensive perspective. He would never use magic offensively; Clark had already decided that he was no wizard — he was a man of action. Knowing and having the ability to use magic to defend himself from it would be useful, but he could easily see how such power could make him susceptible to corrupting influences. He had already seen his dark side, once, under the influence of artificial kryptonite, and that persona was not someone he wanted to set loose again in the world. He would have to discipline himself to use magic only when it was necessary, and only in self-defense against magic itself.
Would Harry, with both magical and super-powers as well, powers that nearly matched his own, realize these things too, Clark wondered. Harry seemed remarkably well-adjusted for a boy who'd been through the things he'd experienced — the murder of his parents, living in near-slavery with unsympathetic relatives for a decade before learning of his true origin, and the constant danger that his reappearance in the Wizarding world put him in with the Dark wizard, Voldemort and his minions. Clark considered it a mark of Harry's integrity and self-control that he hadn't immediately sought out Voldemort, to kill him with his enhanced powers.
A gust of cold wind blew in from across the canyon, ruffling Clark's hair, and he shook his head absently, leaving it somewhat disheveled. A normal boy's teeth would be chattering right now — the wind chill was below freezing. But for Clark, whose body was powered and warmed by the sun, it was just a pleasant breeze.
Where had Harry gotten off to? Clark knew he had flown to Smallville at least once, looking for him, though he hadn't known then that Clark was attending the Academy alongside him, disguised as a twelve-year old. He'd found out when Clark had approached him, just before the train incident. They had talked for hours afterward, but Harry was engrossed in his own studies of magic, and they rarely saw each other since then. Now Harry had been gone since Friday afternoon, two days.
"Harry?" a voice behind him spoke unexpectedly. Clark turned; standing behind him was a blonde, teenaged girl, dressed in a light jacket, knitted blouse and a skirt that barely reached to her knees. For a moment Clark wondered that she wasn't freezing, but students at the Academy, especially those who'd been there for a few Montana winters, knew spells that gave them protection from harsh weather conditions.
"Oh," the girl said, taking a step back when she saw his face. "I thought you were someone else." She turned to leave.
"Wait!" Clark said. Over the past few months he had memorized the faces of every student he'd seen at the Academy — in the hallways, in his sixth grade classes, in the cafeteria — but hers was unfamiliar to him. He jumped to his feet (a bit awkwardly, maintaining his persona of a gangly twelve-year old) and stood facing her. "Um, my name's Jon Clark," he said, wanting to find out more about her. "What's yours?"
"I'm Linda," the girl said. She was looking around. "What are you doing out here?"
I might ask you the same thing, Clark thought. Aloud he said, "Oh, I just come here to admire the view." He pointed to the canyon below them. "It's my little getaway from the Academy."
The girl didn't react. "Well," she said, after several seconds of silence. "That's nice, but I should be going. I was looking for someone."
"Yes, you called me 'Harry' when you first saw me," Clark spoke up quickly. Could she possibly be referring to Harry Potter? Perhaps this was the girl Harry liked? But no, he remembered seeing Clea at the start of school, when she spoke at the first assembly, and this wasn't her. "Are you looking for Harry Potter?"
For the first time the girl looked interested in what Clark was saying. "Do you know him?" she asked, looking anxious.
"Yes," Clark nodded. "We've both been attending the Academy, I'm surprised you haven't —" Clark stopped, noting the look of anxiousness and discomfort on her face. "Are you all right?"
"I don't know," Linda said. She shook her head, as if in a daze. "I feel — not well. Something about this place…"
Clark suddenly realized — she wasn't from the school! That was why he hadn't recognized her! But how could a normal human have wandered into the Academy's "safe zone?" And why wasn't she freezing from the cold? "How did you get here?" he asked her.
"I — I —" she shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She looked around, trying to decide what to do. "I have to go," she abruptly announced, and turned and bolted into the woods, moving with the speed and grace of a deer.
"Wait!" Clark, startled for a moment by her speed, took off after her, running flat out. Whatever she was, she was no normal human, that was for sure! But she was still being affected by the magical wards of the safe zone, and she was running toward the Academy, not away from it — the wards were bound to make her even more confused and frightened the closer she got to the school. She was running as fast as he was, but she didn't know her way through the woods, and was twisting and turning blindly, without any real direction in mind. Clark, who'd spend enough time in these woods to know them quite well by now, anticipated her twists and turns, steadily closing the gap between them, until after running nearly two miles in less than thirty seconds, he caught up to her in a small clearing.
She tried to twist away from him at the last moment, but Clark put on a surge of speed, tackling her, and they both slid several yards across the ground; Clark rolled his body beneath her, keeping her from being dragged through the dirt, until they came to a halt. He rolled to his feet, lifting her off the ground and onto her feet as well. "Are you all right?" he asked, holding her by the shoulders.
"Get off me!" she shouted, pushing him hard in the chest. Clark flew forty feet across the clearing, slamming into a tree, which split open on impact. He slid to the ground, unhurt but amazed at what had just happened. Definitely not human, he thought, looking at her with renewed respect. That shove would have broken a normal human, but she didn't seem to realize at first that she'd shoved him that hard.
Linda was staring at him, horrified by what she'd just done, and looked equally amazed as he picked himself up off the ground. "Oh, dear Rao," she said, nearly hysterical. "I might have killed you!" She suddenly frowned. "In fact, that should have killed you, if you were a normal human. What are you?"
"I might ask that same question of you," Clark said, calmly, dusting himself off as he walked toward her. Had she just called upon Rao, the Kryptonian sun-god? "You seem much stronger than a normal human."
"And you're much more durable than one," Linda retorted. "In my case, it's because I'm not human — I'm from the planet Krypton, like the person they call Superman. Do you know of him?"
Clark smiled. "I've heard of him, yes. But why are you looking for Harry Potter?"
"I am hoping that he can help me find Clark Kent," Linda answered. "I met him once, on the Kent farm in Kansas. Martha Kent told me that Harry and Clark know one another."
"I think they do," Clark nodded. This was interesting — she knew his mother! How would a Kryptonian have gotten to Earth after all this time, when Krypton was destroyed years ago? "But why do you want to find Clark Kent?"
"That's my business," she replied, curtly. "If you can't help me, I'll be on my way." She crouched, looking as if she were about to leap into the sky.
"Wait," Clark said again. She stopped, looking back at him, and he asked, "Can you fly?"
She looked at him strangely, but nodded. "Yes, I have that ability. All Kryptonians do when on Earth. Why?"
All Kryptonians? Clark thought. So far, other than himself, he only knew of three other Kryptonians who'd survived the destruction of Krypton, and they were no longer super-powered. But he said only, "Will you carry me away from this place? I want to show you something."
"What?" Linda asked, looking at him suspiciously.
"Just fly us that way," Clark said, pointing back toward the canyon. "You'll see before we go very far."
Linda shrugged and picked him up, then soared into the air, flying back over the canyon and out of the confines of the Academy's safe zone. "How much further do I have to go," she complained. "You said something would happen — yipe!"
Clark had begun to glow in her arm, and then grow. As a twelve-year old, he'd been just a bit shorter than her, but now his features blurred and matured, and his school clothes and jacket morphed as he grew, turning red and blue, until Linda hastily let him go as he hovered before her under his own power — Superman, the Man of Steel!
"Oh my Rao," Linda breathed. "You were Superman all along?" She looked furious. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know who you were," Superman answered. "And I still don't. Now you tell me — why do you want to find Clark Kent?"
Linda put her hands on her hips. "Well, you ought to know! You are Clark Kent, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?" Superman answered, not wanting to give anything away.
"I've known about it for years," she answered. "My real name is Kara Zor-El, and I'm your cousin."