1.2

"Justin, can I have a word?" I was dressing after gym when Kurt Kesselring, a senior who I knew had no legitimate reason to be in the area at that time, appeared from around the row of banged up metal lockers. "You can finish getting dressed. I'll wait for you outside."

My memories told me this guy was the senior Empire Eighty-Eight recruiter at Winslow and an unfortunately regular acquaintance in Justin's life.

Mother, in this world, had been born as a Reinhart, an old German family that had been one of the founders of Brockton Bay. While she had no white supremacist or fascist leanings, some of her relatives had bought into the Empire's philosophy over the decades the gang had been active in the region. Several had even married members or supporters. These unfortunate connections, combined with our family's wealth and prestige in the Bay meant that I was a special recruiting target for the Empire Eighty-Eight leaders.

Since this Justin had enrolled at Winslow, he had been approached on an almost weekly basis by the various E88 members at the school. They put forward their most friendly face and applied no pressure, using the soft sell. The worst of the lot was my cousin Maria Rainer who played on our connection to invite me to parties and events which I'm sure had nazi elements, if only as a subtle subtext.

I found Kurt waiting for me in the hall.

"Word is out that you tangled with Hess and that she's coming after you," the large blond informed me. "She's dangerous. I won't say she's racist but look at the people she usually targets – Veder, Hebert, McCall, Crane. She doesn't normally mess with athletes, but you pissed her off and you fit her … preferred demographic shall we say."

"What about it?" I asked. I had no idea if Hess' aggression was racially based, but given who she hung out with most often, I doubted it. This was just another white supremacist tactic.

"We can back you up if you need it." He must have seen my immediate reaction. "You don't even have to join. The Empire was founded to protect the rights and welfare of all good people. We'd just be doing our job."

"I doubt we agree on the definition of good people," I replied. "But regardless, I think I can deal with her on my own. I'd rather you and yours not get involved."

He looked at me with a subtle smirk. "If you say so, but you can always change your mind. Don't underestimate her. Even I can admit she's a skilled fighter. She moves like a jungle cat and she's not above ambushing from hiding. If you need help, you know where we are."

I nodded silently, not agreeing to anything and he left. I shook my head. That was help I did not need.

Before school let out, I had to catch up to Taylor to swap contact information.

"I don't have a cell phone," she said as if it was the worst thing in the world.

I smiled because I had been one of the last in my mundane social group to get a mobile back home. They were not much used in the Wizarding World, but I did get one after the war ended. This Justin had been carrying one since elementary school. "That's alright. I can call your landline if I need to contact you."

"Should I send a driver for you? It would save your father the bother." I'd almost said parents but remembered what had upset her that morning.

"Um … I could take a bus?" she replied tentatively.

"They don't run to Westside Hills on the weekends," I replied. They were used mostly by staff that did not live in the big houses. Father made sure I knew how to get around town using the bus system in case of emergencies, but Mother made sure I only did it when there was press involved.

"I don't want to impose," she said.

"No imposition." I smiled. "Neither of us are allowed to drive yet, so someone has to do it. Melissa is being paid whether she's actually driving anywhere or not. Might as well make use of her services."

"Um, alright? But I have to ask my dad first," she said almost defensively. I wondered if she was looking to leave herself an escape route should she decide not to do this.

It made sense. She did not know me, and I may have been coming on strong. It was the Hufflepuff in me, wanting to take care of the wounded bird. Or maybe my internalized British paternalism. I'd have to watch out for that. She was no house elf to be rescued and I was no Hermione Granger.

That evening I ate alone as my parents were out at a charity thing and it was not one where children of patrons were expected to participate as well. After a larger than normal meal, magical energy had to come from somewhere, I made my way to the exercise room. I wanted to get a handle on this new body.

After three hours of pushing myself to find my physical limits I discovered whatever they were, they were beyond the limits of our equipment. Seven hundred pounds was the maximum weight I could put together on our equipment. I could bench press, even curl that weight repeatedly for ten minutes with no sign of fatigue. I could tell I wasn't even close to my maximum capability.

The cardio machines were similarly useless. I was able to take the highest settings the running, riding, and climbing machines could offer for thirty minutes with no noticeable strain. I was going to need something better than consumer grade equipment to test myself against.

However, it had happened, this version of me had superpowers like the parahumans of this world. That did not include my use of magic.

I spent two hours running through my list of non-destructive spells that did not require a living target, just to make sure they all still worked as they should. Even though I was casting them without a wand, they all worked. They might have been a touch more powerful, or effective, or took less effort than they had during my final exams. I chalked this up to the apparent mental enhancements that seemed to have come with the new body as well.

Given these abilities and the injustices I was remembering were rampant in this world, it was obvious I would become a hero. No true badger could let such blatant unfairness stand without trying to correct it.

I spent most of the night perusing the internet for information to confirm my memories and elaborate on of the evils of this city and the larger world. I was astonished and angered that the current powers that be allowed actual nazis to not only roam the streets unchallenged, but to effectively control a large segment of the city.

There were other gangs and criminals who were likely as bad, but my great-grandfathers had all fought against the nazis in World War II, one giving up his life. I'd also lost family to the fascists during the Blitz. The insult of their continued existence was personal somehow, especially as they had sucked in family members and saw me as the next to consume.

It was 3 a.m. before I realized it. I was surprised to find I was not sleepy. Not wanting to push myself and risk sleeping Saturday away, I finally went to bed.

Saturday, I met my new parents, if only for a few minutes. Jack and Diane Finch seemed much like my real family – nice, well-meaning, and terribly busy. They were out of the house with a warning they would be back late or maybe not until tomorrow.

"Just FYI, I've asked a friend over for dinner tomorrow. She, or rather we, had an issue at school yesterday and it turns out it was part of a prolonged problem she's had with bullying and harassment that I was just caught in the fringes of. I think she needs some legal advice and I told you'd be willing to talk to her." Mother frowned, so I hurried on. "Sorry to volunteer you like that, but she does need help and it's already involved me and could pull me in deeper if we can't deal with it."

"What kind of issues and what has been the response of the teachers and administrators? Gladys Blackwell is principal there, right?" Mother made a subtle moue of distaste at the woman's name. For her that was the same as most people sticking their tongue out and gagging.

"Taylor Hebert is the girl's name," I reported. "She's been bullied and harassed since she started Winslow last year, mostly by a group of girls in our grade. Emma Barnes is one of them, possibly one of the leaders."

This time Mother let out a very slight sigh.

"Taylor says she's complained to teachers and to the principal, but they either don't believe her or just ignore her. If I remember correctly, she spent a week in the hospital in January because of a 'prank'."

That caught the attention of both parents. No adult likes to think of any kid being hurt that badly.

"How are you involved in this?" Father's tone was concerned.

"Taylor and I were partnered for a project in class today. Julia, one of the girls that's been bullying Taylor stole her work and gave it to another group, led by one of the other bullies. She, Madison, then claimed it as hers to the teacher, Mr. Gladly. Taylor told him truthfully that it was her work, but he ignored her. That meant that our group was forced to scramble to come up with something for the class presentation and probably lost points because our best ideas had been taken and presented by Madison."

"Where was your work on all this?" Father asked.

"The assignment was originally due Monday and I had scheduled time this weekend to get it done. Mr. Gladly moved the deadline forward and Taylor was the only one in our group that had made significant progress, so we were trying to expand on what she'd done in the class time allowed."

"And Gladly's done nothing about the problem?" Mother inquired. "Have you had problems with him before?"

"No. I honestly think this has something to do with Taylor. After class I spoke with Madison and asked her to tell the teacher what she had done. I gave her until Monday. When I left her in the hall, I saw Taylor surrounded by a dozen girls all heaping insults on her. She was standing up to it until Emma made a cutting remark about Taylor grieving her mother's death. I admit I sort of blew it then and barged in to shut her down."

"Good for you, son." Father offered his approval. I nodded in return.

"While all this was happening, Mr. Gladly was watching, then he just walked away without saying or doing anything."

Mother's phone beeped. She looked at the time and tsked. "Justin, we have to run now, but I want to hear more about this. I'm particularly interested in Gladys' response."

"Taylor says she's got almost two years of documentation, including the administration's non-response. I suggested she bring it tomorrow."

"Good. Have her come early, say four. We can look at what she's got before dinner. Just make sure you're back from your lessons in time. Now we really have to run." She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then they left. A minute later I heard Father's mid-life sports car moving a bit too quickly down the drive.

"What are your plans today?" Melissa asked once they were gone.

"I was planning on staying in," I replied. "I have some work to do here. You should take the day. We'll probably need to pick up Taylor tomorrow afternoon on the way back from piano." This me had been taking piano lessons since he was five. I had as well but had stopped when I went to Hogwarts. I was looking forward to resuming them.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, can I have Taylor's full name and address?" Melissa asked. I had rather expected this. She was going to run a background check on her, or as much of one as she could before Sunday afternoon. Father had hired her from the Secret Service as our head of family security. I knew she was professionally paranoid and did not think badly of her. In the other world, my family had a man named Oscar in the same basic role. Melissa was at least nicer to look at. More interesting to talk with also.

Once I was alone in the house, I spent the day practicing magic and setting up a potions lab in the attic. I ordered what ingredients I could find to be delivered. I was amused at how many organic food stores, pet supply outlets, and occult or religious paraphernalia shops sold items I needed. There were a number of potions I could make, such as the swelling solution or the wit-sharpening potion that only used mundane, if obscure, ingredients. For those recipes that required only one or two magical components, I was making notes of possible substitutes for missing ingredients. Despite Snapes horrendous teaching I had done well in my Advanced Potions class and was confident enough in my ability to do some experimentation.

I also went through the most recent stock market reports and accessed the trading account my father had set up for me. I will admit the main reason I had taken Advanced Arithmancy was to analyze the market and guide my stock picks. I had been fairly successful with this sort of investing during my last two years of school.

That experience had also given me a familiarity with the New York Stock Exchange. Since I was almost thirteen years in my personal future, not to mention in a world with Endbringers and other disasters regularly impacting the market I had a lot of new numbers to analyze. I expected to get back to trading, but not for at least a month.

I also needed to see how my normal morning forecast needed to be reworked to take the various changes into account. Arithmancy was not an exact science, but its findings could be a useful tool in decision making. I whiled much of the afternoon away defining my variables and refining my equations.

That night I went to bed early, taking time to meditate and reset my occlumency shields. Whatever had boosted my cognitive capabilities also impacted my mental resilience and defenses. Without testing them I could not know for certain, but I doubted even a master legilimens would be able to break through now.

Unfortunately, the impenetrable shields did not stop the dream I'd had both the last two nights from recurring. The golden bat creature, along with its Brobdingnagian minions, were destroying all the versions of the bat people's world, despite the efforts of their superpowered defenders.

Just before waking the space bat dream faded, and I observed the Earth Bet Justin Finch in my Charing Cross apartment discovering my wand and casting his first spell. I suddenly knew with a certainty that I had not destroyed the boy I had replaced, but swapped places with him instead.

I hoped my family would take care of him as his was taking care of me. I also hoped he would go back and finish high school before moving on. He'd need that foundation, even if he had my memories as I had his.

I spent the morning considering what sort of costumed persona I might adopt if I were to become a hero here. I decided against any name or theme that hinted at magic. It just seemed wrong. Nor did I relish facing the mockery that was heaped on the few parahumans that claimed their powers had a mystical origin or effect. My physical abilities and magic would make me significantly more versatile than most capes, if not necessarily more powerful. This versatility would make me stand out.

As soon as a new cape showed more than one or two disparate abilities that were being compared to Eidolon, the hero that could do anything. Figuring I might was well acknowledge my versatility in the name. I looked at a few thesauri and came up with Myriad or Manifold. I decided I liked the first one better.

I conjured a mannequin and dressed it in an old tracksuit. Using transfiguration, I tried out different costume designs until I found one that I liked. Remembering some of the protective outfits the Weasley Twins had marketed near the end of the war I tried casting unbreakable and shield charms on the outfits. It took almost an hour before I could get a casting that stuck. I thought I might try invisibility and levitation later.

I just wished I could remember the charms used to make brooms. One of my classmates at Ilvermorny had made one as an advanced charms project. I had some ideas I could experiment with. I wondered if I might be able to figure out sneakoscopes or foe-glasses. There were all sorts of enchanted items in the Wizarding World that might be nice to create here. It would just be seen as another type of tinkering.

Finally, it was time to go to my lesson. After which we stopped at Taylor's house. She ran out as soon as we pulled up. I got out and opened her door for her. She was carrying a cardboard box, one that printer paper came in. I took it from her and put it in the back of the SUV then got in the rear seat with her.

"Hey," I offered in greeting.

"Hey." She sounded nervous.

"This is going to be alright," I assured her. "Mother was interested in talking with you, after I told her about what happened in Gladly's class, as well as the scene in the hall. That's why we're early. She wants to talk before dinner and look over your proofs."

"I just don't want her to think I'm whining or exaggerating."

"If you're not then she won't. That's what the documents are for." I drew a breath and continued. "Look, I can't guarantee she'll be able to fix everything, or even anything. But it's worth trying, right?"

"Yeah," she said, straightening.

"So, tell me about yourself. I mean I introduced you as a friend. I'd look pretty silly if I had to say I don't know when my parents ask about you."

"Um. Ok. Ah. I'm in tenth grade, but you already knew that." She stopped for almost a minute, obviously uncomfortable. "Ah. I live with my dad. He's an officer with the Dockworkers Association. He's head of hiring so he's always trying to find them work, which has been hard with the collapse of most maritime trade. Mom was an English Professor at BBSU. She loved to read. She had a particular interest in the literature of the divine. That's an examination of holy writings like the Bible or the Quran as literature. She had translations of all the major religions' texts, and many of the minor ones too. From all around the world."

As she continued, I realized she was more relaxed talking about her family than herself. Rather than trying to force anything, I did what a Hufflepuff should and listened, contributing where appropriate, but helping her release her nervous stress before the interrogation began.

"Hello, Taylor. I'm Mrs. Finch. I think I know your father. Isn't he on the Mayor's Ferry Revival Task Force?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's been trying to get the ferries running again since they closed down."

"A worthy goal, if we can find a way to make it at least pay for some of the operational costs. Our tax base isn't what it was eight years ago."

"Maybe not, but a working ferry could open up both the Southside and the North Dock areas to economic revival, increasing taxes as businesses opened, people made better wages, and the property values went up.

I watched as they went back and forth for five minutes. As counterintuitive as it sounds Mother often used argument as a way of breaking the ice with new acquaintances. Part of it was she was a lawyer and just liked to argue. I noticed she let Taylor choose her side of the issue before taking the counterpoint. The other reason was people arguing need some passion to sustain the debate. That passion often burned away at least some of that person's social reticence or disguise.

I waited until there was a natural pause in their discussion before interrupting. "We've got just under two hours until dinner, should we set up in the library?" I asked, motioning with the box of documents to remind them both I was playing pack mule. The weight was negligible, and I was not getting tired. I just wanted to get to the reason Taylor came.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Let me carry that." Taylor reached to take the box from me, but I retreated towards the library. The two ladies followed.

"Now what I'd like you to do is tell your story in your own words, using whatever you have in that box to illustrate what you're saying," Mother began once we were settled into the bookroom/office that was the public business space in the house. Both Mother and Father had their own private offices, but they were just that – private. "Does that make sense?"

"Sure," Taylor said, reaching into the box and pulling out a large three-ring binder. It had a garish illustration of the Triumvirate on the cover. "It started almost the first day of ninth grade…"

Her tale was heartrending, and her proofs were maddening. There was undeniably something going on. I could tell my mother thought the same. She was keeping her righteous anger in check to avoid frightening the abused girl into silence.

Just after six, Father knocked on the door then stuck his head in. "Dinner is ready, if you're at a good stopping place."

"Yes, I think we could all use a bit of a break," Mother said, her jaw tight. "Justin, why don't you show Taylor where she can get cleaned up. We'll meet you at the table."

I could see Father get the message that she wanted to talk to him. I was certainly noticing much more of the hidden depths and complexities of the social interactions around me in this new body. Looking back, I could see my own parents had often shared such silent communications. I had just never noticed it.

"Certainly, Mother. Taylor, I think it's safe to leave your stuff here. We can gather it up before we take you home. If we need anything during dinner I can always nip back here and get it. Ok?" It's important to give her choices and not make all the decisions for her, I reminded myself.

"Sure," she said. "I'll follow you."

During dinner, the parents tried to at least start with lighter topics, including asking about Taylor's future plans.

"I'm not sure. It'll depend on if I can get enough financial aid to afford college. I might start at Great Bay Community College," Taylor replied.

"What do you think you'd want to study?" Mother asked.

"My mom was an English professor. I sometimes think about following in her footsteps."

"I like to think that being a lawyer is like being an applied English major. It's all about reading, writing, and verbal communication," My mother said in her 'I'm going to convince you' voice.

"She does this to almost every friend of mine she meets." I warned Taylor while chuckling. "I think she gets a commission from the New Hampshire Bar for every kid she convinces to go to law school."

"I don't get a commission," Mother said, then paused. She watched as Father started to sip his wine then continued. "They give each of us a quota we have to fill and I'm behind three recruits for the quarter."

She timed it right and caused her husband to do a spit take.

Taylor looked at me almost confused while Father cleaned up his mess.

I shrugged. Sometimes things were funnier to a couple than the people watching along.

As I fetched the pre-prepared desert from the refrigerator Mother returned to Taylor's problem.

"Gladys, Ms Blackwell that is, should be doing a lot more for you," She made that face again when mentioned the principal. "As far as I can tell she's not even investigating your complaints. I'm going to have a word with the Superintendent. He may have more information, and if not, he'll be in a better position to find things out from the inside."

"If Alan Barnes is interfering, as his daughter's messages and threats allege, then he'll be in trouble not only with his firm, but potentially with the aforementioned Bar as well. On the other hand, it's very possible, likely even, that Emma is using him as a threat without his knowledge. Or it could be some combination of the two, somewhere on the spectrum from concerned parent to corrupt attorney."

"You know I can't pay for this kind of help." Taylor was looking out through her hair, showing her nervousness, her expectation of Mother pulling all offers of assistance at the news.

"I know. We'll work something out." Visibly noticing the time as the grandfather clock in the hall chimed eight, Mother continued. "For now, it's time for you to head home. Try to keep your head down for the next few days. It will take a little time to get things started. If it's alright, I'll have Justin let you know the next steps once we know what they'll be."

"Sure, that's great." Taylor's hopeful excitement was evident.

"One thing before we go any further," Mother paused dramatically. "You need to tell your father all about this. He may be upset. No, he will be upset, both at all that has happened to you and that you never told him. But the first cause will take almost all of his attention. Don't let the fear of the second reaction stop you. I can't do much without his involvement and permission. Understand?"

"I didn't want to bother him. He's had it pretty rough since …"

"Worrying about your kids, even having to work hard to help them, is never a bother to a good parent. It's our highest priority. Let me know when you've told him. I'll have to contact him by Wednesday if things go as I expect."

"Ok …"

"Come on, Taylor," I said, once more carrying her box. "I'll ride back with you."

"Ok. And let me carry that."

I handed it to her. But I held all the doors for her as a sop to my courteous upbringing.

Neither of us knew that there would be no school for anyone the next morning, or for several after.