Harry Potter Returns
A Harry Potter/Superman Returns Crossover
Chapter Twelve
Kara Mia
Updated 8 January 2011
There was one teacher at the Academy, Harry discovered, that he could not get along with. Ironically, it was the Potions Master, Professor Elric — an older man who, like Snape, was thin and wore his hair long and somewhat greasy; unlike him in that his hair was blond rather than black. Harry had thought nobody could be as dislikable as Snape, but Professor Edward Elric changed his tune about that very quickly. At least, Harry had to admit, Elric's ill-temper was directed toward all the students in his classes, and not just Harry or a particular group of students.
Elric had spent their first class trying to explain his philosophy of Equivalent Exchange; to Harry's ears, it was not much different than the first law of thermodynamics, that energy and matter were conserved; Elric's ramblings, however, added a lot of mumbo-jumbo to that concept, and near the end of the lecture, Harry raised his hand, causing Hermione and Ron to stare at him in surprise. Normally, Harry rarely spoke unless called upon. "Professor Elric, I have a question."
Elric gazed down his nose imperiously at Harry, then consulted his seating plan. "Yes — Potter, is it? What's your question?"
"Doesn't all that sound a bit convoluted to you?" Harry asked.
Elric frowned. "No, I'd say it's perfectly simple to me, Potter. As you are still young, you are obviously unversed in the more subtle aspects of magic. Were you raised in a Mundane family?"
"Er — well, yes —"
"As I thought," Elric concluded, dismissively. "You probably think of magic as some type of 'free lunch,' do you not?"
"No, but —"
"Good, because it is not," Elric cut him off once again. "Believe me, I know." But the professor refused to elaborate on this final statement, instead launching into a discussion of the class curriculum that lasted the rest of the period.
Subsequent classes were of the same tenor — Harry, becoming more and more immersed in the diversity of types of magic, was finding more and more reasons to doubt what they had been taught at Hogwarts.
"I don't know what you're trying to prove, Harry," Hermione told him some time later, during lunch in the cafeteria. "Unless it's that you just don't like Potions teachers, for some reason."
"Well, you have to admit," Ron told her, as he munched on a ham and cheese sandwich, "Elric's not a likeable bloke in the first place."
"Not really the point, Ron," Hermione said, a bit archly. "He's a teacher!"
"Oh yeah, I forgot — all teachers are perfect." Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and took another bite from his sandwich.
"My, aren't we full of wit and wisdom today," Ginny sneered, from somewhere down the table. Ron ignored the comment.
"My point is," Harry broke in, "is that a lot of what he's teaching us seems old-fashioned, considering what we've been learning about magic from the other teachers." Considering all the extra reading he'd been doing in the Library lately — since learning Clark was reading a dozen books a week, Harry had read at least one book a day from there as well; over the past three weeks he'd amassed quite a collection of magical studies. It was all a drop in the bucket, however, compared to how many books were left!
The chair next to him slid back, and Ginny seated herself next to Harry. "Hey, d'you want to go for a walk later?" she asked, casually. "I'm getting a little stir-crazy, cooped up with just my roommates after classes."
Harry was a bit taken aback by the request. Ginny had been much too busy last year with guys like Michael Corner, and had even gone out with Dean Thomas over the summer holiday, or so she had told her brothers, Fred and George. "Uh, well…"
"It's no big deal if you don't want to," she shrugged, starting to get up.
"No, it's not that," Harry said, quickly — he didn't want to hurt her feelings. In fact, a few months ago the idea would have been quite appealing. But, since he'd met Clea, Harry hadn't really thought about anybody else.
But again, there was no harm in taking a walk with a friend. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah, we can do that."
"Excellent!" Ginny said, grinning at him. "I'll meet you in the foyer after last period, okay?" Harry nodded, and Ginny touched him on the arm, then jumped up, saying, "I gotta get ready for class — see you, Harry!" and off she went, leaving Harry staring a bit warily after her.
He also couldn't fail to notice that both Hermione and Ron were watching this exchange rather keenly, probably each for their own reasons. Hermione had the telltale small quirk at the side of her mouth — she was pleased for some reason.
Ron, however, didn't seem quite as cheerful about it. On their way to their next class, he let Hermione walk ahead of them, then quietly asked Harry, "What was all that about with Ginny back there?"
"Huh? Oh," Harry shrugged, "she wanted to go for a walk after last period."
Ron put on a look of puzzlement. "With you?"
"Yeah."
"Just you?" he seemed to be having trouble clarifying that idea in his mind.
"She didn't mention anyone else, that I recall," Harry said, evenly. "D'you have a problem with that?" Ironically, he was hoping Ron did have a problem — it would solve his dilemma about hanging out with Ginny!
But Hermione had heard as well. She had stopped and turned to face both of them. "What's wrong with Harry and Ginny going for a walk?"
Ron got a little red-faced. "I didn't say anything was wrong! I was just surprised to hear about it, all of a sudden!"
Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "So you're okay with Ginny and Harry going for a walk, then, right? Right, Ron?"
"Er — don't rush me!"
"How could a question like that possibly rush you, Ron?"
They were still bickering over it three hours later, near the end of the last period. At this point it had become a battle of wills between Hermione and Ron — Harry's opinion didn't seem to enter into it anymore. Harry finally shrugged, resigning himself to the walk, and dropped his bookbag off at his locker, then walked to the foyer to meet Ginny.
When he'd almost reached the foyer, however, Harry heard a door open behind him and a familiar voice said, "Hello, Harry." Turning, he found Clea smiling at him. "How've you been?"
"Fine," Harry smiled; it had been several weeks since they'd first met, and he had wondered when he'd see her around the school again. "Are you — um, here to do any, er, teaching?"
"I'm just visiting Stephen and a few of the other teachers," she said, giving him a thoughtful look. "But, you're right — I did mention giving you some lessons on being my student, didn't I?"
"Uh — yes," Harry agreed, suddenly very anxious to learn.
"Would you have some time this weekend to go on a short trip with me?"
"Um, sure," Harry agreed again. "Where would we be going?"
Clea moved a finger lazily in the air. "Oh, just — around. Show you a few things you'll need to know if you want to be Sorcerer Supreme someday." When Harry nodded agreeably she smiled. "Wonderful! I've got to run, Harry dear, but I'll find you here in the foyer Saturday morning. Around nine?"
Harry nodded a final time and she leaned forward, touching him on the cheek with her lips. "Until then." Clea disappeared, leaving Harry touching his cheek where she'd kissed him.
"Wow," he breathed. He walked into the foyer, a distracted expression on his face, then froze when he saw Ginny standing near the exit. He glanced back toward the corridor. She wasn't in view when he heard Clea — but had she heard them talking?
It hadn't seemed she had, however, because she grinned at Harry when she saw him. "How's it going, Harry?" she asked. "Got any homework to worry about tonight?"
"Er — not really," he said. It was true enough; homework wasn't much of a problem anymore, not when he already read through all of books in all his classes. Ginny launched into a discussion on her studies, talking mostly about what she thought of the teachers, and Harry nodded every minute or so.
It was kind of interesting, in a way — Ginny had been well-known at Hogwarts, popular with students (especially boys, Harry knew, due to Ron and his brothers' complaints that she'd had "several" boyfriends in the past year, though it had only been Michael Corner and Dean Thomas), and liked by most of the teachers. She was doing pretty much the same thing here, Harry thought — he'd seen several boys talking to her in the halls in the past few weeks. Which was why it had surprised him when she'd asked him to go on this walk.
But it was turning out to be quite pleasant. Ginny was keeping most of the conversation going — all Harry did was occasionally nod, as if he were following along (he was covered if she asked a question about something she'd said, previously — his super-memory would recall every word of their conversation, if need be); she seemed happy to chatter about her roommates, Hermione, Ron's faults, and even mentioned a few lame passes the boys at the school had made at her in the past few weeks, which surprised him.
By the third such story, in which their roommate, Dalton, and his girlfriend tried to get Ginny to come to their room with them and "hang out," Harry turned to her. "I don't think Ron would like to hear that about our roommate."
"I don't intend to tell him," Ginny replied, matter-of-factly. "It's not any of his business."
"Then why tell me? I mean, he's my best mate, you know. He might want to know if some boy tried to kiss you."
Ginny snorted. "I'll bet — but that's only because the only women he's ever kissed were Mum and Great Auntie Muriel!" Harry chuckled.
Then she floored him with her next question. "You've kissed a girl, haven't you, Harry?" Harry stopped short, looking at her.
"Uh —"
"Cho Chang, wasn't it?" she went on, conversationally, though she was looking at him closely. "Oh, it's no big deal — I was dating Michael Corner at the time. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'm not embarrassed," Harry said, starting to turn pink.
Her smile turned into a smirk. "Who were you talking to, earlier?"
"Earlier?" Harry repeated, blankly. "Earlier when?"
"When I was in the foyer, waiting for you, I heard you talking to someone."
"Oh, right," Harry nodded, mentally cursing. She'd heard them! "It was, um, Clea."
Ginny blinked. "You were talking to the Sorcerer Supreme? That's impressive. What did she say to you?"
"She was, er, visiting Dr. Strange, she said," Harry said, which was the truth — or at least some of it.
"But what did she talk to you about?" Ginny pressed. "I mean, the conversation was more than just, 'Hello, how are you? Well, see you later.'"
"True," Harry admitted. "We were just —"
"You kissed her, didn't you?" Ginny asked suddenly. "I saw you!"
"I didn't!" Harry was shocked by the accusation. "She kissed me!"
"And you let her?" Ginny looked outraged by this admission.
"I didn't even think about it!" Harry protested. "She just — did it — all of a sudden…" He frowned. "It was just a kiss on the cheek, anyway. What's the big deal?"
She gave him an incredulous look. "What do you know about her?"
"What's that supposed to mean? She's the ruddy Sorcerer Supreme!" Harry sputtered.
"Did you ever wonder why she hung out with an old wizard like Doctor Strange?" Ginny pointed out. "He was born in 1930, so he's over sixty years old. How old d'you think she is?"
"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Twenty-four or twenty-five, I suppose."
"She's something like a thousand years old," Ginny said, with a tone of near-disgust. "And there are rumors that she's not even from this universe."
That seemed absurd, even to a sixteen-year old wizard with super-powers. "Come on, Ginny, A thousand years? From another universe? How could any of that be true?"
"Isn't it Voldemort's goal to live forever?" she pointed out. "Not so far-fetched. But I guess you've already made up your mind about Clea, haven't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind," she snapped, turning away "I don't want to talk about it any more — in fact, we're done with this walk. I'll talk to you later, Harry." She walked away from him, disappearing back the way they'd come.
Well, that could have ended better, Harry thought, confused and somewhat irritated. It had sort of solved his problem with telling her he wasn't really interested in dating her — he hoped.
After a minute, he took a few steps back toward the school, then stopped, deciding he didn't want to go back just now — there might be awkward questions from Hermione or Ron that he didn't feel like dealing with. Harry looked around, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. He felt like hitting something, just to relieve his frustration, but with his strength now he was liable to knock down a whole forest if he cut loose. Harry finally shook his head and jumped — straight into the air, flying upward.
He stopped several thousand feet up, well out of view for most people staring casually into the sky, even if there were anyone out here who shouldn't see him in the air. Spinning slowly, Harry considered the countryside turning below him. It was too bad Sirius had been taken from him so soon after they found one another — he expected the ex-Marauder had a few tips on girls he could have given Harry. He'd even consider talking to Remus, if seeing him again wasn't going to be awkward. But it would be — how could he explain traveling six thousand miles just to ask him about dating!
But — there was someone, not nearly as far away, to whom he could go anytime with a problem, he hoped. Clark's mother, Martha Kent! But should he go talk to her, knowing that Clark hadn't been back home to see her since August, and this would be his second visit in as many months? Briefly, Harry considered finding Clark and talking him into visiting his mother, just so he could find a few minutes alone with Clark, to see what ideas he had on this "girl problem." He certainly couldn't discuss it with Ron or Hermione!
But Clark, he knew, was caught up in reading through the Academy's Library — Harry saw him in there every day, always with a different book in front of him. Considering how much of an action guy Superman was, it was strange seeing a twelve-year old Clark who was such a bookworm.
Harry mentally shrugged. He wanted to talk to somebody, he decided — Clark's mom might even be a little more sympathetic to his problem than Clark seemed to be, the last time they talked. Harry willed his body forward, and within a few seconds he was soaring over the wheatlands of north central Kansas.
Harry landed next to the barn, flying downward at a speed that assured no one would see him land, and walked across the yard to the farm house's back door. It was an hour later here; it would be just about time for dinner, Harry thought, smiling in anticipation of a piece of apple pie for dessert. Mrs. Kent was always happy to have someone share her meals—
Harry froze just inside the kitchen door, staring in surprise at the person he'd found there. It wasn't Martha Kent, but a young girl, about his age, who was setting plates on the table. "Uh, sorry —" Harry said, just as Mrs. Kent walked in the kitchen as well.
"Goodness, dear!" she said, hand over her bosom. "What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you again so soon!"
The girl had set down the plates she'd been carrying. She looked at Mrs. Kent, then at Harry. "Are you — Clark?" she asked, cautiously.
"Oh, no dear," Martha said quickly. "This is a friend of his, Harry Potter." She smiled at Harry, then nodded at the girl. "Harry, this is my cousin, Linda."
"Hi," Harry nodded at her. Linda had shoulder-length blond hair and a set of crystal-blue eyes that gave her a striking appearance. "It's nice to meet you, Linda."
"Nice to meet you, too," she replied. But her tone didn't quite match the words — Harry had the impression she was just going through the motions of polite speech; she seemed very nervous in his presence, as if she were going to do or say something wrong.
"Well, Harry," Martha spoke suddenly, distracting him. "What brings you here? Was there something you needed?"
Why was he here? Oh. "Er — just needed some time away…things, for a bit, I guess," he said, not wanting to discuss the real reason in front of Martha's cousin.
"Mmm," Mrs. Kent was giving him a penetrating look. "Linda's taking some time out from school as well," she said. "Well, why don't you have dinner with us, Harry?" Linda looked a bit startled, and Harry got the vibe that his joining them was unsettling to her.
"I don't want to be any trouble…"
"Oh, don't worry," Martha said reassuringly. "Linda's a bit shy, but having someone other an old lady to talk to will do her good. Don't you think so, Linda?"
Linda smiled weakly. "Yes, Mrs. Kent — Martha."
"Good!" she said brightly. "I've made too much pot roast anyway — this'll help me take care of the extra." She gestured for both of them to sit down, brought another plate for Harry, and they began the meal. It wasn't very fancy, but all of the food was delicious: the pot roast, steaming in gravy with chunks of potatoes, carrots and peas; something called coleslaw, creamy and cold, which Harry found interesting; thick slabs of home-baked bread, with butter and strawberry preserves. Harry dug right in, knowing Mrs. Kent liked to see a boy with a healthy appetite.
He also watched Linda eat. The young woman was eating slowly, taking tentative bites, as if she was unsure she would like the food. It seemed odd she would eat that way, unless she was not used to this type of food. Harry wanted to tell her, Mrs. Kent's food was every bit as good as the food he'd had at Hogwarts and the Academy, but it would be too difficult to explain without giving something away, so he just smiled at her. Linda didn't have much to say, she just listened as Mrs. Kent filled Harry in on Linda's situation.
"Linda will be staying here for now, with me," Mrs. Kent was telling him. "She was telling me that she came ahead of her parents, who are planning on joining her."
Harry nodded. "Where are your parents, now?" he asked her.
Linda looked at him blankly for a moment. "Well—"
"Linda may not be comfortable discussing her parents, Harry," Martha put in, quickly. "We're not sure when they'll be able to join her. It could be some time before they're able to get here."
"Well, it seems like something could be arranged," Harry suggested, knowing he could fly just about anywhere he needed to, to bring them back. Hell, he could fly all the way around the world in just a few seconds, if he needed to!
Linda stood suddenly. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, flatly, then looked at Mrs. Kent. "I'm done eating, if that's okay with you, Mrs. Ke— Martha." When she nodded, Linda turned and walked out the back door.
Harry looked at Mrs. Kent, "I just wanted to help," he told her.
Martha reached over, patting him on the hand. "I know, dear," she told him. "It's an unusual situation — we'll just have to see what happens."
"Well, if there's anything I can do —" Harry offered.
"Yes," Martha said. "Be her friend. Just don't push too hard; she's a very private person. I'm sure when she's ready, she'll open up to you."
"What about Clark?" Harry asked. "He doesn't know about her, does he?"
Martha shook her head. "She arrived only a few weeks ago, just after the last time we spoke. I didn't know who she was, at first, until she explained the situation to me."
"So what is the situation?" Harry wanted to know.
Martha looked contrite. "She'll have to tell you that when she's ready, Harry." She smiled. "Now, I'm sure you're ready for a big piece of apple pie before you head back to school, aren't you?"
Harry couldn't argue with that. "Yes, please," he said, grinning. As Martha sliced the pie, Harry glanced behind him, looking through the farmhouse wall toward the barn, where he saw Linda walk inside. A strange girl, he thought. But then, knowing people like Luna Lovegood, who was probably even stranger, he got along with her well enough; he should be able to make friends with Linda, too.
=ooo=
Lex Luthor was settled comfortably in a lounge chair in the grand ballroom (now his lavish, personal office) on the Alexandria, reading Stamford's notes for the day on the breakdown of their rather unusual guest, Mr. Dedalus Diggle. He had proven to be quite a valuable asset in his search for the mystery of the Man of Steel's "little buddy." It turned out Diggle knew quite a bit about him.
The kid was one Harry Potter, a British citizen who lived in Little Whinging, Surrey, with his aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, and attending a special school in the north named "Hogwarts." This school taught magic.
"This is nuts," Stanford had told him, not long after Diggle had begun to divulge tidbits of information. "Magic isn't real — it's just superstitious beliefs, or else sleight-of-hand tricks."
" 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,'" Luthor quoted, "'Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Do you have a better explanation for what happened to us in Superman's Fortress?"
Stanford shrugged. "'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,'" he said, quoting Clarke's third law.
Luthor chuckled. "Granted. However—" he reached into his pocket of his lounge jacket, removing a thin piece of wood. "— this makes it real."
"That doesn't really prove anything," Stanford objected. "As far as we can tell, it's just a piece of wood, hollowed out, with some kind of material threaded through it."
"And how about this?" Luthor asked, taking out the handle of the broken kryptonite blade. It no longer glowed green, having been changed to granite. "Matter doesn't spontaneously transmute from one form to another."
"Yeah…" Stanford admitted. "That's a bit…harder to explain."
Now, a week later, Luthor was even more convinced that Diggle was going to be the key to the biggest scheme of his career. If going criminal had made him infamous, this might even make him famous again, though he had something quite different than scientific inquiry in mind.
What interested Luthor most was the school, Hogwarts — mostly in the fact that it might exist at all. Wizards, it seemed, were born, not made — so why have a school at all, unless there were a sufficient number of wizards living in England that they needed to be educated as a group, rather than by apprenticeship. Having Stanford dig deeper into Diggle's memories, Luthor found out this was just the case. In fact, there was a whole shadow government operating throughout Britain!
What was most intriguing in all this was Harry Potter himself. According to Diggle, Potter was the most famous boy in Wizarding Britain — he was the "Boy Who Lived," the only person known to survive a Killing Curse, which had been cast on him by a Dark wizard named Voldemort, whom everyone referred to as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," for fear of saying his name aloud. Luthor smirked; even though these wizards seemed capable of controlling energies most humans couldn't, they still had human failings — even they were superstitious to some extent.
Also, somehow, this Potter kid had gained super-powers. Did he use magic to achieve this? Was Superman susceptible to magic, like kryptonite? Luthor had reasoned he must be, though he might be more resistant than normal humans. And this is what had given Lex his great idea: Could he find a way for magic to make himself super-powered?
He had two magical artifacts, a broom and a wand. And now he had a magical person and a growing collections of information about magical people and their world. There were places he could go, even in London, to be in the midst of wizards, in their own environment. Not that he would be foolish enough to visit them, without adequate safeguards, and he was still learning those. But with a bit more work, Diggle would be convinced he was one of them and would follow Luthor's orders. Once he was sure he had turned him, Luthor had a few errands in mind for the old wizard.
Before long, Luthor smiled, he would be able to locate this Harry Potter, and find out how he was able to gain super-powers. Once he had that, and his own personal wizard, Luthor knew, nothing would be able to stop him.