LoDK
Harry Potter: Alchemy
Chapter 6: Trail of the Madman!
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Detectives Teresa Colvin and Jarek Wysocki belong to 20th Century Fox, Detective Ray Vecchio belongs to CTV and CBS. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.
A/N: The Last Daughter Series diverges significantly from accepted canon for the Harry Potter series from the outset, as in addition to the crossover elements, there are several deviations from the books that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011),) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and the upcoming Superman and Lois (2021) and relocates the series to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result.
A/N: There are a number of additional crossover cameos from outside Harry Potter or DC Comics in this chapter. Can you spot them all?
Hogwarts Great Hall,
Scottish Highlands.
September 14th, 08:05 BST.
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.
Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection. "It's either really valuable or really dangerous," asserted Ron.
"Or both," said Harry.
But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.
Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.
Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.
Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand and One, but I don't want everybody
knowing you've got a broomstick, or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet
you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor McGonagall
Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
"A Nimbus Two Thousand and One!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."
They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the Entrance Hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it. "That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."
Ron couldn't resist it. "It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand and One. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"
"A Nimbus Two Thousand and One, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.
Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team..."
"So, I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.
"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron. "It's doing us so much good."
Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
19:30 CDT.
Karen was washing up after dinner with when Hedwig swooped in through the window and landed on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The snowy owl had a letter in her claws which she allowed her to remove before flying out to her aviary to rest for a while. Karen tore open the envelope and withdrew a small sheet of parchment.
Dear Karen,
I've been Sorted into Gryffindor with four other boys and five girls. My first week of classes have been fairly interesting, the Transfiguration teacher – Professor McGonagall – is a decent sort, definitely not a woman to cross and she seems to be pretty good… she turned her desk into a pig without saying a word! But she seemed pleased enough when I managed to turn a matchstick into a needle… I'm not sure the only one of my classmates to do the same – Hermione Granger, one of the Gryffindor girls – appreciated sharing the attention though. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic are… oddly boring… our initial thoughts about Professor Quirrell seem to have been correct, he might know his stuff, but his stutter is so horrible that it's almost impossible to understand anything he says and Professor Binns – the History of Magic teacher – is if possible even worse, he's a ghost and delivers his lecture straight out of the book in a drone that puts you to sleep!
But as bad as Quirrell and Binns are… the Potions teacher, Professor Snape, is even worse! At beginning of the first lesson, he swooped into the classroom and started taking roll like the other teachers, but he stopped at my name, called me the "new celebrity", then finished the roll and launched into a monologue about the 'subtle science and exact art of potion-making… which still confuses me a little…
Karen paused to considered the question, bristling a little – not so much at the professor's comment per se – but for him singling Hank out for such unprofessional mockery. After a moment, she decided that the phrasing was odd, surely it should be 'exact science and subtle art'? She glanced down at the letter and smiled when she saw that Hank had made the same observation, then continued to read.
At the end of his monologue, he finished by suggesting that we were all probably a bunch of dunderheads… I'm not sure what that means but I'm fairly sure he didn't mean it as a compliment.
Karen paused, she wasn't entirely sure herself, but she agreed with Hank's guess.
Then he rounded on me and lobbed a series of questions at me, ignoring Hermione Granger's attempts to answer any I missed, musing sarcastically that 'clearly fame isn't everything' and suggesting that I 'didn't open a book before coming', then took a point off Gryffindor because I 'cheeked him' by suggesting after the third question that I couldn't answer that he should ask Hermione instead.
Karen paused to consider this. She could see Hank's point… picking on him and ignoring the rest of the class wasn't the best approach... but on the other hand, Harry's comment was a little cheeky, if understandable given the provocation, and a single point wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. However, she revised her opinion about the teacher's reasonableness a moment when she discovered that he'd taken another point from Gryffindor because another student that he wasn't even working with had screwed up!
She rushed up to her room and was about to change into outdoor gear and go over to her aunt's to share the letter, when she was diverted by a signal from her computer. She flew over to it and activated the video-conferencing app.
Paula Holt's face popped up immediately. "Sunstone, Nomad just reported a premonition about the murder of an actor in Chicago, can you look into it?"
Karen thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Does Nomad want to join me?"
"She does," Paula confirmed. "She's here at the Bunker. Cyborg and Vibe are standing by too. I'm checking with CPD right now…"
"I'll be with you in two," Karen promised and after receiving confirmation from the older woman, closed the link.
Karen quickly removed her new white-and-gold uniform from a hidden compartment in her wardrobe, changed and then after yelling a message to Pa, she left through the window.
****
The Bunker,
Detroit.
MI 48216.
20:00 CDT
"Recognised, Sunstone B40," declared the Computer as she walked out of the Zeta Tube. Paula and the rest of Beta Squad were clustered around the main computer bank but glanced over in her direction as she came over.
"Nice costume," noted Cisco.
"Thanks," Karen replied. "Have we got anything new?"
"Possibly," replied Paula. "CPD Dispatch has just sent a unit to Lake Shore's School of Drama to investigate a possible suspicious death."
"Do you know which unit?"
Paula checked. "No, but it's in the twenty-first district if that helps."
Karen nodded, then voice-dialled a cell on her commlink.
After a moment, a female voice answered the call, "I'm a little busy right now, Kara. Do you need something?"
"Nomad's had a warning about an actor being murdered Chicago," Karen told her. "Are you at the Lake Shore School of Drama by any chance?"
"Yeah, I am," Teresa confirmed. "The victim, Ron Buxton, died mysteriously on stage in front of several witness without explanation."
"Is it okay if I come over and bring some friends?"
"Fine by me, Kara."
"On our way," promised Karen, then turned back to the group. "Teresa's running the show for the moment and is happy for us to help out."
"Let's go then," said Vic, triggering a Boom Tube.
Cisco and Cindy headed towards the Boom Tube, Karen paused to look towards Paula. "Can you do a deep dive on the victim… Ron Buxton, nineteen, sophomore at Lake Shore?"
"No problem," agreed the den-mother and master scientist.
****
Lake Shore School of Drama,
Chicago,
IL 60614.
20:02 CDT.
As they walked out of the Boom Tube, Karen smiled, the lead detective who was walking towards them from a knot of young people – a pretty thirty-year old woman – was a familiar and welcome sight, even if the scruffy-haired rookie trailing behind her was somewhat less so. Karen always tried to see the best in everyone, but there was something about the young Polish-American detective's attitude that rubbed her the wrong way.
"Kara, we really should stop meeting like this!" joked Teresa.
"You know it's always good to see you, Teresa," Karen returned. "Congrats on the promotion by the way."
"Thanks," replied the older woman. "You've done wonders for our arrest rate."
Apparently deciding that there had been enough small-talk, Victor walked up to the pair. "What have we got, Sergeant?"
"Nothing much beyond what I've already told Kara," Teresa admitted. "Ron Buxton was filming a death scene on the stage with the director and the leading lady – Kerry Meade – and the director, when they discovered that he wasn't faking it. They immediately called for the police and paramedics." She consulted her notebook. "No-one has any theories on motive… apparently everyone liked him."
At that moment, a stocky, slightly butch-looking woman in the uniform of a Chicago Fire Department paramedic joined them. "We're ready to load up now, Sergeant."
"Any thoughts on cause of death, Mo?" asked Teresa.
She shook her head. "I can only confirm that there are no obvious injures or vomiting. The medical examiner will be able to tell you more after the post-mortem."
"Have them contact the on-call detective for Violent Crimes, they'll be taking the case if it's ruled a homicide."
"Will do," agreed Mo and headed back towards the ambulance. When she got there, she clambered into the driver's seat and set off.
A moment later, Teresa's radio crackled, "5214 Adam from Squad, we have a lead on your 8-04."
"Go ahead, Squad," replied Teresa.
"14 Adam, 5327 David was just approached by an informant who has reported that the victim was being targeted for 8-41. The suspect is heading inland on Irving Park. Black Honda Accord, tag Robert Charles Whiskey One Three Niner."
"5214 Adam, 10-4!" confirmed Teresa, signalling her partner to get in the car. "On our way!"
Karen turned to the rest of the squad. "I'm going to follow them. Can you meet us at the Medical Examiner?"
"No problem," agreed Victor. "We'll take a look around here first."
Karen nodded, then cast her flight spell and took off, following Teresa's car onto the main road.
****
Independence Park,
Chicago,
IL 60618.
20:10 CDT.
"I d-d-d-don't know n-nu-thin' about no murder… Honest!" stammered the suspect – identified as one Arthur Colleta of 400 East 41st St in the city from his licence – after Karen had forced his car off the road and pulled him out. "I only drove over there to pick up my monthly payment from the kid, that's all… Then, I hear the kid conked out before I could even collect! Even my partner thinks I plugged him!"
Karen shared a glance with Teresa and when the officer gave her an enquiring glance, she gave her shake of the head, she hadn't cast a truth spell to be sure, but her instincts were telling her that the man was telling the truth.
"Arthur Colleta, you're under arrest for blackmail," Teresa told the suspect, manoeuvring him so she could apply cuffs. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."
Karen stood and watched as the two police officers manoeuvred the crook into the back of their patrol car. As Jarek closed and locked the door behind him, Karen's commlink beeped. "Go ahead."
"Sunstone, Nomad's had a premonition of another attack."
"Do you have a location?"
"The Industrial Arts Building in Little India," replied Paula. "Units from the twentieth are on the way but…"
"I can probably get there faster!" finished Karen. "Teresa… I've got to go… we think another murder's going to happen soon elsewhere!"
The older woman's eyes bulged in surprise. "Go!"
Karen nodded and raised her hands, summoning a pair of sigils, "Lor Zor!"
The combined sigil expanded quickly after forming, shaping a portal.
After waiting a second for it to stabilise, Karen jumped into the portal and disappeared from view.
****
Industrial Arts Building,
Chicago,
IL 60626.
20:15 CDT.
As Karen came out of the portal, she rolled into a crouch and quickly scanned the room she'd arrived in.
A loud whirring sound immediately caught her attention and she turned towards it.
To her horror, she saw the potential victim was strapped to an enormous table saw, and he was gradually edging towards the whirring blade.
Deciding that there was no time for subtlety, she thrust her palm forwards with the thumb overlapping. "Ur!" she yelled, sending a beam of pure magical force at the saw blade, shattering it instantly.
She sighed in relief, but this dissipated when she crossed to the prospective victim and then checked him over…
Despite her best efforts, he was dead anyway.
****
Violent Crimes Division,
Chicago Police Department,
Chicago
IL 60618.
23:30 CDT.
"Well, it's official, both deaths are suspicious… So, we'll be taking over the investigation." Detective Ray Vecchio told the teen heroes assembled around his desk in the bullpen. "Ron Buxton was killed with a doctored facial cream and the fake saw was designed to scare Michael Heimes to death."
"Scare him to death?" asked Cisco, incredulously.
"According to the medical examiner he had a serious heart condition," said Ray, glumly.
"What's wrong?" Karen asked. "You don't sound happy about being on the case."
"I'm not," Ray admitted. "I've already got ninety-five open cases. The last thing I need on my plate is a serial killer."
"Well, anything we can do to help," said Karen.
Ray snorted. "I'll take all the help I can get. Other than them being students, I can't see any connections."
"Paula and I have been cross-checking," Victor added. "Both of them are drama students, so there's that."
The detective perked up. "Have they been in any of the same plays recently?"
"I don't think so," Victor replied. "I'll check."
The group waited for a moment, then Victor spoke up again. "No, they haven't."
"Well, there goes that idea," groused the detective. "Back to square one."
"Maybe not," Victor interjected. "I had a hunch and ran another search. That brought up a match."
"Really?"
Victor nodded. "It might be nothing, but they were both rehearsing for their first lead roles."
"It's not much…" Ray agreed. "But maybe… Is there any crossover between the plays?"
"The university's staging both obviously… Winter Snow and Poison Please," replied Victor. "Nothing obvious…"
"Hang on, that sounds familiar…" ," said Cisco, speaking up for the first time. He moved to the desk and started to type a query into a search engine. After a moment he gave a cry of triumph. "I've got it!"
"What is it?"
"According to Liz Locklin at the Lake Shore View, the last time the school put on those productions, the same actor – Basil Rasloff – performed the lead role in both plays…"
"That's the director for the current plays!" exclaimed Karen. "He must be the killer!"
"That's good," said Ray with a nod, then paused at the look on the Latino hero's face. "Isn't it?"
"Maybe," agreed Cisco. "but the problem is… Rasloff was in a third play. And Frank Morris, another student, is due to remake that for the current season."
"That's not good!" agreed Ray. "We need to find him… and fast!"
"Cyborg to Bunker… Priority Red!"
"Go ahead."
"I need you to find out if … a student at the university – Frank Morris, 19 – has a cellphone and ping it! His life could be in serious danger!"
"I'm on it!"
While they waited, Ray got on the phone to the police's computer section and gave them the same instructions.
Predictably, the vast computing resources of the Justice League and STAR Labs produced the result before the overburdened police department.
"Morris' number is three-one-two five-five-five two-one-nine-four," reported Victor. "His cellphone last pinged at the building site for the new maths building over in Hyde Park!"
"I'll call the Third," said Ray, reaching for the phone. "Get them to send units."
"We can get there faster," said Victor and turned to his group. "Let's go!"
The quartet hurried out of the room and soon as they were in an open space, Victor summoned a Boom Tube and they ran into it.
Hyde Park,
Chicago,
IL 60637.
23:40 CDT.
As soon as she was clear of the Boom Tube, Karen cast her flight spell and took off to get a look around.
It didn't take her long to find Rasloff. He was at the controls of a purple crane, and a brown-haired teen in an orange sweater and white jeans was tied to the hook, suspended over a bed of spikes that Rasloff had set up.
Karen signalled to the others, then when Cindy dropped her camouflage just outside the cab of the crane, then she swept in and snatched him off the hook, while Cindy dragged Rasloff out of his cab.
The older man tried to struggle for a minute or two, but the fight went out of him when they were joined by Cisco and Victor and he meekly allowed the trio to escort him out to the main road to wait for the police to arrive.
****
Gryffindor Dorms,
Hogwarts,
Scottish Highlands.
18:25 BST.
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread. Even Harry – who knew very little about broomsticks – thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with an ebony handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand and One written in silver near the top.
After admiring the broom for a few minutes, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling… he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand and One turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.
"Hey, Potter, come down!" said a voice from below him.
Harry looked down and saw that Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate and a broomstick of his own. Harry sweep down and landed next to him.
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play."
Harry nodded, "Madam Hooch explained the basics to me when she visited me in Smallville to give me my letter. I know that the twins are our Beaters…"
Wood nodded. "They're like a couple of Human Bludgers themselves…"
Harry considered Wood for a moment, "I'm guessing you play Keeper… who stops the Chasers from scoring?"
Wood nodded again. "Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell are our Chasers."
"And I'm the Seeker… it's my job to catch the Golden Snitch… which is worth a hundred and fifty points and wins the game."
Wood made a face, "Mostly… catching the Snitch doesn't always win the game, it depends on the score."
"But it usually does?"
"Aye," replied Wood. "Particularly at Hogwarts…" He paused to consider their surroundings, then bent towards the trunk. "But that's enough talking for one night… let's see what you can do."
Wood pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.
Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After about three-quarters of an hour, night had really fallen, and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
****
Violent Crimes Division,
Chicago Police Department,
Chicago,
IL 60618.
October 26
th, 09:30 CDT.
"Good work on the Rasloff Case. He's not going to be getting out for a long time."
"It was nothing, Lieutenant," Ray admitted. "The Outsiders did most of the work…"
"Does that mean you're reconsidering taking a partner?"
"Maybe," Ray admitted. "But let's be honest, sir, it would take someone very special to put up with me…"
"That's true," admitted the older man, and then walked off. "That's true…"
****
Northwest Territories,
Canada.
April 26
th 1994
Team Year Twelve.
An elderly but well-built man trudged through the ice, looking for clues. After a moment, he went down on one knee and scraped away the loose snow with a bare hand until the eye of a caribou frozen under the ice is revealed…
The old man heard something and then began to look around, after a few seconds of searching he rose quickly to his feet and then began to walk up-hill to get a better look. But before he reached the summit, he heard the sound of a rifle bolt locking into place. "You're going to shoot a Mountie?" he said, his voice even. "They'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth."
His answer came as the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out across the quiet gulch and he fell to the ground.
A/N: While this chapter takes inspiration from Supergirl vol 1, issue 1, which also supplies the chapter title, the location is intentionally transplanted to the Chicago location of vol 2 (merging the fictional Vandyre and Lake Shore universities and using RW UofC locations) to integrate better with the Outsiders' Detroit sub-team (name TBD, suggestions?).