Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Hellboy. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am just a humble writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note: I've been reading up on the Hellboy comics, and they all hint to Broom's being something of a badass in the past. I might have felt the urge to include that soon….

Chapter Two - Fate's Divergence

After Hellboy's temporary "pregnancy" with the eggs, it was decided that a series of teams would be sent into the sewers in the morning to look for and destroy any other eggs that may have been planted by Samael. The BPRD could not take the chance that any more of those monsters could start running loose in the streets. That being said, it was also decided that the resident mage should remain above ground on standby in case the bald dude that summoned them showed up again.

It wasn't a decision that was enjoyed by anyone except the upper management. Typical. Those that never went into the field had the final say on those that did.

So in an effort to ease tensions before the mornings exertions, Professor Broom had seen fit to occupy all of his children. The next several hours were spent with Abe swimming with a trio of dolphins that had been transferred into his tank, Hellboy buried under a literal mountain of nachos and watching a Die Hard marathon, and Harry… beating his old man soundly in scrabble.

"You know," the old man cleared his throat, "I could have sworn I raised you to have humility in victory." Across from him his youngest was currently doing a wild victory dance that had an uncomfortable amount of hipthrusting. He just had to have learned that from Liz. The girl was vicious at board games.

"What do you expect, dad?" he asked as he calmed down and sat once more in his leather backed chair. A small table between them held the game. "This is the third round in a row I've crushed you." He frowned then as a thought occurred to him. "What's wrong?"

Broom blinked. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

The frown grew deeper. "Yes it is. I can count on the fingers of my left hand the number of times I've beaten you at this game in my lifetime, and now thrice in a night? The last time this happened was our checkers tournament of '02' and that was the night you accidentally dyed Red's favorite trench coat pink. What's wrong."

Broom sighed, and for the first time Harry could recall, the man he knew as his father looked… old. "I wasn't sure how to tell you this. How to tell any of you this."

"Tell us what?" The mage was starting to get worried. He didn't like the tone his old man was using, or the way his hand had reached over the table to grasp his own like a lifeline.

"My son, there is no easy way to say this." the professor took a deep breath, "I'm dying."

Harry stared and his mouth fell open. That couldn't be right. He couldn't have heard correctly. His dad couldn't be… dying. Professor Broom was the wisest man he knew, a stalwart and strong defender of the living from the forces of darkness. Someone like that didn't just die. Yes, it had to be a mistake. "I must have misheard you, pop. It sounded like you just said you were dying."

Broom smiled a small, sad, smile, and looked his boy in the eyes, "That's right, Harry. I'm sick. Cancer in my lungs so the doctors tell me. Its advanced past the point of treatment."

Harry scoffed, "Past the point of mortal treatment perhaps. What's the next step? Potions? Elixirs? Magical artifacts? I know you don't like that last one but you can't deny they're effective." Silence greeted him. "Why… aren't you saying anything?"

Still keeping a firm hold on his youngest, and most emotional, child's hands Broom said, "I'm old, Harry. I've experienced so much in this world both good and bad. The war, the supernatural, gods and devils, and raising all of you. But I'm tired, and I'm ready. It's my time."

"No." The wizard's hands were shaking in his father's grasp. "I can't accept that."

"You must. It is my decision."

"Yes, but it is a decision that affects more than just yourself." Harry shot back. "You matter to every person in this place, especially us. Just think, when you're gone who are they gonna send to replace you? No one good with the shitstain that currently runs our department."

"Harry-" Broom tried to cut in, to assure his youngest that he'd made arrangements for that, but his son wasn't finished.

"And what's more, you say you're tired and you've had all these great experiences, but what about the ones you are going to miss? You've talked for years about how 'God' willing Red and I will have kids of our own someday, but don't you think those kids deserve to meet their awesome grandpa? Don't you think we'll need you in those early years for support and advice?"

Broom looked down at those words, in truth he had not considered that. His diagnosis had been so certain and he'd believed it the will of god. But now… his son's words. The hope of grandchildren (he'd always dreamed of little ones to spoil rotten). The knowledge that his kids still needed him. He had some things to think about.

"Just promise me you'll consider those 'alternate' treatments, dad." Harry's eyes were full of unshed tears, "I'm not ready to lose you yet. Not after I just came back to you, and I know Red isn't either. Silent treatment or not."

Broom nodded stoically. "I'll… consider it, my son. Just, don't tell Hellboy. He doesn't yet know, and he deserves to hear it from me."

"Abe?"

"Abraham figured it out when he touched my hand some time ago." The professor stood up, stepped around the table, and pulled his boy into the tightest embrace his old frame could manage. For several minutes they just stood there, taking comfort from each other before they separated. Seeing his boy's face he asked, "Do you need some time with this?"

"Yeah, I think I do. Just to process it all. You promise you'll think on it?"

"I'm already doing so, son. In fact-" before the aged professor could say anything more an alarm started sounding. The two rushed out of the library to the nearby command center and very quickly got to the bottom of the cause.

Harry's stomach fell at the sight of a news chopper recording a building on fire. A building that was very clearly Liz's psych ward. "Well, I have been meaning to go see her for a bit now."

Broom recognized the edge in his son's voice and said, "Go. Try to convince her to come back with you. After something like this she needs somewhere safe and comfortable. She needs family."

"Her family includes you, pop." The wizard said pointedly, earning a huff of good natured indignation from his elder.

Just leave it to his youngest to make him reconsider all of his plans. Nevertheless he decided to send out Hellboy and Abe now instead of later. Events were in motion now and the faster they got those eggs dealt with the better.

Two hours later Harry was changed into a fresh three piece suit and had been driven to the more secure section of the asylum. The only section still standing. He'd briefly considered apparating over, but in the end decided against it. The goal was to bring Liz back with him and she tended to react… violently, to that particular method of travel.

He was rapidly whisked through security to the containment rooms. A little too quickly considering that no one had frisked him for weapons. A shame that, he loved his little tricks. Though his thoughts immediately ground to a halt when he was delivered to a room with a two way mirror. On the other side was Liz, alone on a chair, in a room of padded walls, behind a very secure looking steel door.

He rounded on the nearest administrator, "You locked her up!"

"She locked herself up!" The man defended himself. "The moment she woke up and saw what she'd done she demanded a secure room to be detained inside. She feared another outburst."

The wizard stewed for several moments as he worked himself back from the edge of punching out the shrink. Knowing Liz he was probably telling the truth. He didn't deserve his rage. Instead he asked, "What's your clearance level?"

"Omega. I've worked with the BPRD on several occasions."

"Good, then you know not to talk about what you see here." So saying Harry focused on the spot directly in front of his friend and with a fresh 'Crack' appeared right there.

Liz blinked at the sound, looked up at him, and promptly fell out of her chair in shock. The mage had just enough time to wittily say, "A psych ward? Well I always knew you were a little freaky but-" before he found his arms full of a crying brunette he loved like a sister. (unlike his big brother who definitely loved her as more).

"H-Harry!" She sobbed, "I-I tried. I sw-wear I tried."

"Sh. Sh, Liz. Easy now, I've got you." He shuffled them both over to a nearby wall, now glad for its padding, and slid down to sit against it with Elizabeth Sherman, the pyrokinetic, in his lap. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

She sniffled a bit and wiped her tears away before saying, "I don't know. Things were going so well. It'd almost been a whole year without an incident. But then…"

"Then what?"

"Last night I had a weird dream. A strange Russian man was in my room and he whispered something in my ear, I don't remember what. The next thing I knew I was remembering the day I had my first explosion and the bed was on fire. If you're here then you probably know the rest."

"I know some." Harry thought about how best to say this, and then decided that direct was the only way. "Liz, this wasn't your fault."

"How can you say that! I lost control again. I-"

"You were influenced by a powerful mage." The wizard cut her off, not liking how she had gone back to being so critical of herself. He thought she'd kicked that habit. "Red and I have been tracking a Russian Mage responsible for unleashing a monster on the city for a few days now. Your description matches up."

"Why would your target make me burn down an asylum?"

"Cause chaos? Split our focus? Who knows. But he's clearly got an interest in you, Liz. You aren't safe here."

The brunette looked up at her old friend and gave him a weak smile, "This isn't you trying to hook me up with your brother again is it?" In the past she knew he had organized several situations that had gotten the two of them alone together.

Looking anywhere but at her he replied, "While I do think you two are perfect for each other, if you'd only just get your heads out of your asses, no. I genuinely think you'd be safer with us at the BPRD than here. This guy already got to you once in this place. At least our facility is warded and shielded." When the woman didn't answer right away he asked, "What are you thinking?"

She sighed, "I'm thinking that I'm a danger to these good people if I stay. If my flames go out of control again they'll get hot enough to melt these walls. At least the BPRD has a specialized room to hold me."

Ignoring the 'hold me' statement, Harry stood back up, keeping his friend tight to his side to offer what support he could. "So you'll come?"

"Why not. There are shrinks there too right?"

"Yeah, Director Manning got a team of full time psychiatrists on staff there after I punched him in the face. Apparently my actions were deemed a product of uncontrolled anger and emotional instability so those guys are there for 'anybody' that needs to talk."

"Anybody?"

"Manning tried to get me to go. I told him exactly where my foot would end up if he tried to make me."

"And he just took that?"

"Red mentally crippled the guy they brought in to replace me last time, and apparently he was a rising star in the FBI. He doesn't have the governmental capitol to waste on getting rid of me a second time. Oh, and by the way" he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "I can become Longhair now."

Her eyes grew wide. "Really!"

"Yup."

"You are so showing me when we get back."

"Sure thing. Let's go." Together they took off, the big door opening before they even touched it. The drive back was filled with animated conversations about their lives for the last couple years and several magic tricks on Harry's part before they finally made it back, to a flurry of activity.

Apparently while they were gone Red, Abe, and several agents had raided the sewers. The eggs had been destroyed, but there were casualties, and a corpse.

Upon hearing the last Harry and Liz ran to the elevators and descended into the medical bay. They were both ecstatic and horrified to find Abe there in a healing tank with claw marks across his chest. He assured them he was fine, really, and bragged about setting the depth charges that had ended the threat of Samael for good.

Professor Broom was supposed to be examining the semi-human remains of Karl Kroenen. The old nazi had apparently been killed by several agents in a massacre down below.

Red was in his room, calling the families of the men that had died down there. He always took losses in the field personally. It was one of the many reasons he liked to work alone. The moment they heard this Liz and Harry shared a look and took off down the halls. Neither wanted the big red idiot to be isolated for something like that.

Some Time Later

Professor Broom shakily downed a second glass of bourbon. He didn't normally partake of the stuff except on the weekends, but he'd just had one of the more horrifying experiences of his life. Autopsying the corpse of his old nemesis, Karl Kroenen. The monster had surgically altered every inch of his body and rigged his heart to keep beating by way of clockwork gears. The pain, misery, and suffering such an act must have caused him was staggering. What kind of man could endure it?

Placing the expensive bottle back behind his favorite edition of Shakespeare's works (Where Harry would not find it. He swore the boy could sniff out whiskey like a bloodhound.) he returned to his research. A table laden with old books opened to particular pages was displayed before him. Kroenen had a few scraps of parchment on his person when he died that had caught his attention. They were familiar in a way he did not quite understand, yet.

Thirty minutes later and he had it. The words on the document pointed to an old mausoleum in the heart of Moscow. Rasputin's mausoleum. So, the bald mage Harry had gone up against was Rasputin, the man that had first summoned Hellboy to this plane of existence all those years ago. Oh, this was definitely not good.

It got worse. Moments after his discovery he heard the sounds of ticking, whirring, and a heavy leather boot stomping down the stairs to the library from the floor above. Broom looked, and beheld the miraculously moving and recovered form of Kroenen, descending the steps with a drawn blade in his hand. Which could mean only one thing.

"I see the puppet, but where is the puppeteer?" He asked, looking around as calmly as his racing heart would allow him.

From directly behind him a heavily accented voice rumbled, "Very good, Professor Broom."

Said professor turned around and beheld the form of Gregory Rasputin, lounging in one of his leather reading chairs. "I see your pet broke the wards so you could enter this place."

"The puppet has its uses, as do your children in their way."

Suddenly filled with rage, the professor hissed, "It was you. All of it. the scraps of paper, Liz's relapse, Samael's rampage."

"Breadcrumbs on the trail. Much like a fable. They both distract and guide him exactly where I need him."

"Hellboy?"

"Yes. I summoned him for a reason after all."

"You want him in Moscow."

"To complete his destiny." Rasputin stood and moved forward but a few steps to place a cold hand on the professor's shoulder. "And the last breadcrumb will come from the late Professor Broom."

Said professor gave a quick glance to the door, wondering if he could make it before the mage acted.

Seeing the look, Rasputin smiled and said, "The doors have been sealed by my power. It would take someone as strong as myself in the mystic arts to open them. None such as that will get here in time." He started to circle the professor. "You raised the child, nurtured him, so in return I will permit you a glimpse of the future he will bring about."

In a flash the mage's hand was on his head, and Broom bore witness to a vision of the world on fire, billions dead and dying, monstrous godlike beings ruled the skies, and sitting triumphant upon a mountain of destruction was his son, Hellboy, horns grown to their full splendor and a crown of living flame above them. The message was clear, the world would burn and he would rule over the ashes.

"Your god chooses to remain silent, but mine lives within me." Rasputin emphasized his point with a raised hand. Beneath his skin an indistinguishable shape slithered. "Every time I died in this life and crossed over, a little more of the master came back with me. He disclosed to me the child's true name. Would you like to hear it?"

"I know what to call him." Broom had finally brought himself back under control after that vision, and he refused to let this monster think he knew more about his child than he did. "I call him, son."

The bald monk could respect a man that held to his belief to the end. He nodded at his adversary and gave him a moment to compose himself before the desk. Book open, rosary prepared.

"I'm ready."

"It will be quick, I promise you." He believed wholeheartedly that the professor had earned it. Stepping up to his minion he whispered, "No pain in the strike. Then retreat." Having said his piece he disappeared into the shadows.

Kroenen stepped forward, and readied his blade against the back of the professor's throat, and swiftly drove it forward. At least… he tried to. The blade tip touched skin and refused to move any further.

Still staring at the rosary, Broom smiled. He'd been about ninety-eight percent sure his plan would work, but as long as Rasputin remained in the room there had been a chance of failure. Now though…

He spun, slapped the blade away from his body and kicked the near undead nazi across the room, taking joy in the way he smashed through one of his bookshelves. It was full of trashy modern novels the new agents seemed to like so they were no great loss.

As the automaton got back to its feet, it eyed the lightly skipping professor with clear curiosity. Then it began swinging it's long knives in intricate patterns, clearly meant to distract his foe, before running back at him.

For his part Broom was taking the chance to enjoy the first real fight he'd had in thirty years. Ducking, weaving, dodging, and buying time. He'd hit the silent alarm under his table the moment he'd heard Kroenen descending the stairs, so right about now…

A series of massive booms began to sound on the nearest door. Yes, they were coming. The sound temporarily distracted the nazi, and as he turned to look at the source, Broom struck.

With years of boxing practice he lunged inside his guard, grabbed the side grip of the blade, smashed his palm into his elbow joint, shattering it instantly, and sliced toward the neck with all the weight of his body. There was a dry 'schlick' sound, a head hit the floor, and a massive kodiak bear burst through the door in a spray of splinters. It took one look at the headless nazi, his victorious father and the blade in his hand, and the shattered bookcase before morphing back into his human form.

"The fuck?" He asked eloquently.

"The fuck?" Hellboy repeated when he ran in.

"The fuck?!" Liz exclaimed when she saw her favorite shelf ruined.

Broom held up an annoyed hand to stop any further outbursts. "I know I raised you all with a better vocabulary than that, so use it please." He should have known his oldest would start.

"Kroenen's head is on the floor, you're holding the knife, and you're ancient. Something don't add up."

"The first time you talk to me in months and it's to mock my martial capabilities?"

"Red's got a point." Liz spoke up, "You aren't exactly in the prime of your youth, gramps."

A smirk was playing on Harry's lips and he stepped forward to run his hands over his father's suit in a searching pattern. "Where is it? You actually picked one didn't you?"

"Well when your child makes a good point about grandkids…" Broom started unbuttoning his shirt to display a specially crafted chest piece. Clamped into the center of it was a very particular spearhead. "The Spear of Longinus, it pierced the side of Christ." He lectured. "He who holds it becomes invincible. I've been wearing it since we talked last night." He grew serious, "I was hesitant to use it, as it seemed almost sacrilegious, but if God gave me cancer then he also put me in proximity to something that could delay it."

The wizard touched it lightly with his finger and jerked his hand back at the backlash of power he felt resonating from the blade. "So you're not dying anymore?"

"Not at the moment, but this is only a temporary measure. Wearing it halts the progress of my disease but the moment I take it off the cancer will start to progress again. I need to find something more permanent before that happens."

"Wait, wait, wait." Hellboy pushed his way forward, "Magic spears, dying, cancer? Can you two please tell me what all this means? Or at least why the corpse that was upstairs is down here now?"

What followed was an emotional conversation that left Liz in tears and Red in shock. "So you let me keep ignoring you knowing that you were going to die?"

Broom sighed and placed his hands on his eldest's shoulders. "Son, being a parent is hard. You try your best, make decisions that seem right, but even after several decades you can still make mistakes. I was wrong to not apologize earlier. To not try and see things from your perspective from the start. I'm sorry I didn't make a better effort to mend our bridges when it mattered. Can you forgive an old man his mistakes, just one more time?"

Red didn't answer verbally. Instead embracing his father in a massive hug. One that was soon joined by the others present. For a moment Broom let himself just enjoy being held by all those he held dear. How could he have ever thought giving this up to go gently into the night was preferable to raging against it? He wanted to at least spoil some grandkids first!

But all good things had to come to an end. Time was of the essence after all. "Not that I'm not enjoying this immensely, but I've figured out where Rasputin is."

"Rasputin?"

"The mage." he clarified, earning understanding nods from those present.

"Where is the bastard?" Liz growled, eager for payback against the man that had caused her to destroy a place she had felt safe.

"Moscow." Broom answered before eyeing his youngest, "I'm going to assume you've kept up with your Russian?"

In answer, the wizard replied, "Верно. Я встретил достаточно русских девушек на отдыхе, чтобы свободно говорить." {Indeed, I met enough Russian girls on vacation to stay fluent.}

"Of course you did." Broom groaned and prayed to the Lord to help his son find a woman that could hold his attention longer than a few days. "Well get packed, all of you. You'll leave as soon as I can get you clearance."