Harry Potter and the Spirit of Revenge
Chapter 15: Autobiography of a Deadman

Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I'm I doing wrong (to correct it).

12 Grimmauld Place
Parlour

"So… what are your plans for today, Pup?" Sirius asked, still a bit miffed by the ease the Phantom Stranger had appeared inside the old Black Family house, despite the sheer amount and hostility of its wards.

Harry sighed, and leaned back on his seat, Hermione and Luna still holding his hands. "I guess… I should go back to my own body. I left it behind in Saint Mungo's."

Hermione gasped, "But… but you are here! I can touch you! Feel you!"

Harry smiled lopsidedly at her, "It's complicated, Hermione. I can do things even the best magic in Britain can't even conceive. Being apart from my body… well… first trick I learned at the other side. It was a pre-requisite to being the Spectre…" he fell silent for a brief moment. "I should return you both to Hogwarts before anybody realizes you're not there."

Luna nodded. "You better rest for a while afterwards." She said dreamily.

Harry nodded, and turned to Sirius, "I'll go check on Dobby and Nagini before leaving, Can you keep an eye on them after we're gone?"

"Sure, Pup; but I want to know where did you find her." He waved his hand dismissively, "Eh, but that's a story for later."

London, England
Ministry of Magic, Level Two,
Department of Magical Law Enforcement,
Amelia Bones' Office

The DMLE director sat heavily on her heavy chair. Yesterday had been a long day, followed by a very long night, and today would probably be just as long.

Shacklebolt was still down at the cells, watching over the man tentatively identified as the supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew; before leaving, she would have to make sure he was relieved by a trustworthy Auror. If Pettigrew was still alive, then the infamous Sirius Black had been wrongfully sentenced to Azkaban. She ran a quick list in her head, and made her choice. She pushed a rune in her desk, calling Auror Thomas Michael Ostrander (1).

The man was trustworthy enough for the duty. He tended to think outside of the box, and managed to find connections others couldn't see. Herself included.

While he arrived, Director Bones rubbed her eyes. This investigation would be a real mess… Cedric Diggory dead, Harry Potter unconscious for who could say how long, so many "outstanding citizens" mysteriously dead (and to top it off, at more or less the same time and the same grotesque way), Pettigrew alive, and wearing the Dark Mark of Voldemort on his arm, plus that strange silver hand, The Prophet already interfering with the investigation…

Mysteries upon mysteries. She didn't like this one bit. She sighed and closed her weary eyes for a moment, trying to find her centre again, just as Moody himself had taught her so long ago…

"Moody!" She abruptly sat straight again. "How could I forget him? (2)" She stood up, grabbing her cloak and hat, just as Ostrander was knocking at her door.

"You called me, M'am?"

"Yes," she fumbled with the cloak broach, "Relieve Shacklebolt at the special cells, the prisoner he is guarding is of the utmost importance. He is to be watched at every moment. If he stirs, even a little, stun him immediately. Is that clear?"

"Yes, M'am." Ostrander nodded, getting out of her way, and following his boss to the Floo Station. "When will I be relieved?"

"Eight hours. In the meanwhile, nobody but me is authorized to even look at the prisoner. Not even the Minister, and especially, Dumbledore." She wrote another name in the watch roster, Emmet Leadworth would watch the prisoner after Ostrander, and then Shacklebolt would go back. She tapped the roster to notify the other men of their newly assigned duties.

Ostrander gaped for a moment. Albus Dumbledore was one of the most, if not, the most respected wizard in the whole of Britain. "I assume there is a very important reason for that, Director." And before she could answer, he added, "Which I am simply going to assume it's waaay over my grade pay."

She grinned as she three the Floo powder into the chimney fire "Indeed."

As the flames turned green, she said, "Hogwarts." And stepped into the fire.

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Room 12

Deadman twiddled his thumbs.

Not the most constructive thing to do to deal with boredom, but by Rama Kushna's puppetry strings! This place was booooooring!

The excitement had quieted down. Harry's body rested comfortably on the old-fashioned bed, the two cops watching over the currently unoccupied body were doing their job; doctors and nurses were checking in periodically, and he still hadn't really bothered to learn the equivalent to those jobs in Wizarding Britain.

So… he shrugged expressively, stretched his arms and yawned like the MGM lion. "Say, kid, would you like to hear a story?"

"Once upon a time," Deadman floated horizontally next to the bed, his fingers laced over his belly. Almost like the stereotypical patient at the psychologist, ready to remember his childhood. He cleared his throat and continued, "there was the best ever ever aerealist in the whole world. Nah, in history! He was very brave, and he always performed alone, without a safety net. (3)"

"He was a bit of a jerk, with a big head and everything. He was not a bad guy, not really, just very misguided. He was, as I said, a jerk to his friends at the circus."

He paused dramatically. "Yeah, I know. He deserved to be brought down a few pegs, that's true, but he didn't deserve what he got, I think." He sat up for a moment, looked at Harry's relaxed face, and returned to his previous pose. "Still, being shot while doing a quadruple… not nice, my friend, not nice. Oh, but the tale doesn't end there; not really, my good sir."

"The aerealist fell to the ground, but his soul completed the jump. To our now bodyless hero's surprise, no one clapped, no one whistled. There was a deathly silence. Only then, he realized there was a dead body in the middle ring, while the carnies, his friends, gathered in horror around him. A big pool of blood soaking the wood shavings on the floor…"

Deadman sighed. "I wish I, I mean, the aerialist wished he had been nicer to his pals. But now he was just a ghost. He couldn't talk to them ever again. Well… he could talk until the cows came home wearing dresses, but they couldn't hear him anymore."

"Except for one. A funny looking guy from India, I think. Vashnu was the name we knew him by. Never really ask a carny for their life story. Some have been to very strange places and done weird things you wouldn't believe, others like to string you along for as long as they can, if they think it's funny. Not bad people, but one has to get their fun when you can. Anyway, this guy was a fakir, and somehow, he networked our hero with a goddess." He raised his arms to the heavens, "RAMAAAAA KUSHNAAAA, Ladies and gentlemen. She of the nice singing voice and annoying orders that sound very reasonable until you stop to think about it."

"Well, short story long, our friend had been murdered, and Rama Kushna granted him the power to jump from body to body, just like that guy with the holographic friend in TV (4), and Oh, Boy… I could use one of those... Well, all this was so he he could do good and earn his place in the Afterlife. First order of the day, solve his own murder. Took a long time to manage that. I thought it was my ticket out, but no. Years and years pass by, and I think I'm in for the very long run. And I still look like I did back the . These stylish threads were my gimmick. Deadman, the most daring trapeze artist since the Flying Graysons! Now that I think about it… they had a bad end too… but at least I had not much of a family, just a brother, who was later killed because he looked just like me… pity, the Graysons had a kid. I wonder what happened to him… (5)"

Deadman shrugged, and sat in the air, Indian style. "Still, one meets interesting people in this business. I've met heroes, villains, monsters, ghosts (avenging or not), and even got a side-job ferrying some souls into the Great Beyond for Death herself. Nice gal, you know? She stops to chat with everybody. Sad thing, almost nobody remembers her. I know I don't."

"That last gig I mentioned, you ask? Kinda depressing to know I'm forbidden to get to the next stop of the bus. Anyway, that's how I met your pal Cedric, nice kid. In any case, I've been so long at this job I've gotten used to it. I try to help where I can, eat some popcorn once in a while, and try not to think of what I'm missing out."

Hogwarts
Classroom 17, Sixth Floor

Harry, Hermione and Luna materialized in a deserted classroom. Both girls hugged Harry, despite how cold he was.

"I'll come back as soon as I can." He said, and vanished silently.

Hermione sat on a desk and exhaled a long breath. Luna sat next to her. "We should go class."

The young Gryffindor girl smiled at her. "Right… although I don't know if I can really learn anything else today"

"There is always something to learn, Hermione." Absently, her fingers seemed to caress the air, as if she held a small creature in her left hand.

Both girls returned to their common rooms, to get their books and writing implements for the next class.

Grimmauld Place #12
Upper Floor

Sirius Black knocked at Nagini's door. No answer. After some hesitation, he opened the door, repeating her name. "I'm sorry to barge, just checking you're okay." From the big bed, a soft snore answered. The mysterious woman was sleeping deeply. Silently, Sirius closed the door. The next room door was open. He knocked softly. "Winky?"

The female elf turned towards him, putting a long finger over her mouth. "Dobby bes sleeping."

Sirius whispered, "Is he okay?"

Winky made a complex gesture over him. "Dobby being fine tomorrow. Just needing resting for long."

"Glad to hear that, Winky. Maybe we could talk later? You are a good elf, and you deserve a good family to serve."

Winky shut her eyes closed, and shook her head, "Winky was bad elf."

"No. All I have heard and seen of you tells me you, ah…" Sirius worked his tongue for a moment, insulting the Crouch family would serve no good purpose, Winky was still devoted to her last Masters. "You were in a bad position, Winky. You yourself are a good elf, and any family would be honored to have you. I mean it. Think about it. I think you should go to the kitchen and eat something. I'll keep Dobby company in the meanwhile. If anything happens, I'll call for you."

"Mister Black means it?"

"Yes. Dobby has helped my godson more than once. He is very fond of Dobby. He wants him to be healthy and happy. I personally owe him too. Now go, eat something. I'll stay here to watch over him."

Winky thought about it for a long time. She looked at Sirius for a long moment. And popped away. She returned a moment later, with a platter full of sandwiches.

Gotham City International Airport
Wayne Family Private Hangar

"Ah, Captain…" Bruce Wayne snapped his fingers twice, "Kane? Kane, right?"

"Right on the first try, Mister Wayne. I got the call from your butler a couple of hours ago. Impromptu trip to England. I have just logged our flight plan, and we will be ready to depart in half an hour. Would you like to wait at the lounge?"

"No, no. I had a long night, would be better to get ahead of that nasty jet-lag. Have you met my friend, Mr. John Jones?"

"A pleasure, Mr. Jones." the pilot shook the man's hand. "Whoa! Very strong handshake!"

"My apologies. Pleased to meet you, Captain Kane." The big man rumbled. He certainly was a big one. Tall and muscular, short brown hair cut close to the scalp. He looked like a cop.

Wayne slapped the man's shoulder. "Mr. Jones is my bodyguard for the trip. He has been to England before, so he won't drive in the wrong side. I always forget that bit. Alfred will join us there later if we have to stay for more than a week."

"Very good sir. Your cabin is ready. Luggage?"

"Ah, no. I will take the chance to sample the stores in London. It was a spur of the moment thing, you know me."

Captain Kane laughed, "Yes, sir. I remember the last time I flew you to Turkey. Pity those girls had no passport."

Behind Bruce Wayne, John Jones rolled his eyes.

Once inside the plane, Bruce Wayne's happy façade fell down like a discarded mask. Extranting a gadget from his pocket, he swept the inside of the plane. "No bugs. We can speak freely."

Jones sat on one of the luxurious seats. "You know I still think you are acting impulsively."

"So you have said, J'Onn. I'd rather see by myself who this new Spectre is, and what he is like. Corrigan was a cold blooded killer. And that power in the hands of a boy still in his teens could be a threat to the whole world."

John Jones leaned back. "I have seen that power by myself more than once. But I am more inclined to listen to the Phantom Stranger's advice. This could backfire on us."

Author Notes:

(1) A little homage to John Ostrander, the other half of the longest running team to ever have traced the Spectre's stories. He has a very particular talent to find the essence of characters, and delve into their published history (no matter how good or bad); to write good stories with that character. Especially those that are perceived as useless or unmanageable. For example, back in the original Spectre run, a comic relief character was introduced, Percival Popp, the Super Cop. At best, he was creepy and annoying, and his bumbling was a bad contrast to both Corrigan and the Spectre's seriousness. However, in Ostrander's hands, J. Percival Poplaski became a legitimately moving character in just an issue (Spectre 24, Dec. 1994), and was redeemed both in story and as a character.

(2) I was reminded of the real Moody's absence by Eldersprig. Thanks for reminding me I was being a dunderhead!

(3) Most of Deadman's story comes from Strange Adventures 205 (Oct. 1967) Deadman's debut issue, and Secret Origins 15 (Jun. 1987), which, interestingly, also has the Spectre's origin. It was a dead guys double billing! The bit about completing the quadruple spin (not sure what the English word is…) and not realizing he had been killed comes from the Justice League Dark animated movie.

(4) Deadman is talking about Dr. Sam Beckett, the protagonist of TV's Quantum Leap, and his friend and companion, Admiral Al Calavicci.

(5) The Flying Graysons were the parents of Dick Grayson, better known as the original Robin, Batman's sidekick; and later, as Nightwing.