Harry Potter Returns
A Harry Potter/Superman Returns Crossover

Chapter Eighteen
Out of the Frying Pan

Updated May 13, 2011

At the Academy, Professors Potter and Dumbledore, along with Ron and Hermione, were still waiting anxiously for word from the Dark Dimension as to Harry's whereabouts. Professor Potter sat at his desk, concentrating on his inner thoughts as he waited for Dr. Fate to contact him once again. Nearby, Professor Dumbledore sat placidly in a plush chair he had conjured up, fingers steepled before him. Hermione was sitting quietly as well. Ron, however, had been pacing up and down the professor's study for some time, glancing over every so often to see if Professor Potter was getting anything.

"They've been gone for a long time," Ron said at last, looking at his old headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded. "Several hours, yes, Ron. Dr. Fate mentioned that time may be different in the Dark Dimension than it is here."

"I wonder how different," Hermione said, distractedly. "It must be passing much faster there than here, for them to be taking so long."

Ron frowned. "Harry's been gone four days now — you mean he's going to be more than four days older when he gets back?"

Professor Potter nodded. "Oh my, yes, he will be! Though I am not sure how differently time passes there, he will be older than if he had remained here on Earth. We will have to see just how much older when he returns."

"If he returns," Ron said, darkly.

Hermione looked at him sharply. "Of course he's going to return, Ron!" she said, her voice going shrill. "Don't talk like that!"

"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore suggested, gently, "you and Mr. Weasley should return to your rooms until Harry returns." He reached into a pocket, glancing at the timepiece he kept there. "Dinner will be served shortly — you should both keep up your strength."

Ron stood stock-still for several moments, looking as if he was weighing the idea of refusing to leave Professor Potter's study, but Hermione nodded and rose to her feet. "We will, Professor. Come on, Ron."

Ron followed her out of the room. After a moment, Dumbledore sighed to himself and put his watch away. "Any word yet, Phineas?" he asked.

Professor Potter shook his head slightly. "Not a whisper, Albus." He gave the Hogwarts headmaster a look of concern. "I wish I knew why she wasn't contacting us anymore!"

"The situation there may not allow them the latitude of communicating with us at the moment, especially if they have to deal with this Clea person."

"Yes," Professor Potter sighed gustily. "I wish I had seen more clearly what her plans for Harry had been," he muttered.

"Divination?" Dumbledore asked. Potter nodded. "You may consider, Phineas, that understanding how people think and what motivates them will help you anticipate their actions better than reliance on magic, especially magic that deals with future events."

Potter smiled slightly. "Perhaps, but I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"Oh, pish and tosh," Dumbledore retorted. "You're old enough to have learned a few things about human nature, Phineas."

Potter shrugged. "I suppose so, Albus. But you were always better at such thing than I."

There was a scratching at the window, and both men looked around to see an owl on the outside windowsill. Potter looked at Dumbledore, then made a gesture toward the window, causing it to open. The owl flew in and landed on the desk in front of the Hogwarts headmaster.

"I wonder what that's about?" Potter asked, as Dumbledore removed a note from the owl's leg, He glanced over the note, smiling to himself. "Albus?"

Dumbledore looked up. "Oh, a matter I must attend to has come up," he answered, casually. "I trust you will be able to maintain your vigil while I take care of this, Phineas." He stood. "I shan't be long."

"Of course, Albus," Potter nodded. "I will contact you if the rescue team returns before you do." Dumbledore smiled and vanished.

Dumbledore reappeared several hundred miles to the east a moment later, in front of an office building in Chicago. He glanced once again at the note still in his hand.

Professor Dumbledore,

It's about time you and I met. Come to 1500 South Plaza, room 502. I would like to discuss a matter of some importance with you.

L. Luthor

The address on the building was the same as the note. Dumbledore entered the building's foyer, which appeared grimy and badly maintained, and looked around for a stairwell. He noticed the elevators and, smiling to himself, entered one and pushed the button marked "5," reasoning that in America, room 502 would be on the fifth floor. The elevator ascended jerkily to the fifth floor.

Dumbledore stepped into the fifth floor corridor, looking around for room 502, which turned out to be directly across from the elevator. He approached it and knocked on the door. "Come in, Professor," a voice on the other side said.

Dumbledore walked into the room, finding himself in a small office with another door leading to another room. Near the door was a desk and chain, apparently empty. Dumbledore smiled and continued on, stopping in the doorway to regard the bald man who sat behind a large wooden desk. "You are Mr. Luthor, I presume?"

Luthor nodded. "Yes. Would you like to have a seat?" He indicated a small folding chair in front of his desk. It looked quite out of place in the otherwise elegantly decorated room.

"Thank you," Dumbledore nodded. "However, I prefer something a bit more comfortable." He took out his wand and flicked it, conjuring a plush sitting chair, and settling into it gave Luthor a nod in greeting. "What would you like to discuss?" he asked, without preamble. "Normally, I enjoy observing the amenities of polite conversation, Mr. Luthor, but I am a bit pressed for time today."

"We won't take long, then," Luthor agreed. He sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore's. "I wish to discuss the Philosopher's Stone with you."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "What do you know of the Stone, Mr. Luthor?"

Luthor looked upward, as if recalling details in his mind. "Let's see… a stone or crystal-like substance, reddish in color, that was capable of turning base metals such as lead into gold, and could be used in the distillation of an elixir vitae, a potion that rejuvenated the imbiber, making them immortal. Many men, such as Isaac Newton, tried to create one, but only one man succeeded — Nicholas Flamel, sometime in the late 1300's or early 1400's." Luthor smiled; Dumbledore was watching him carefully. "Flamel faked his death in 1418 and has been living in seclusion in various locations around the world since then." Luthor grinned. "How'd I do, Professor?"

"Quite astutely," Dumbledore nodded. "However, since you're aware of those details, I believe you must know the latest news on the Stone as well."

"And that is?" Luthor asked, blandly.

"With the potential return of Lord Voldemort — I assume you've heard of him as well — Nicholas and I determined that the Stone would be too much of a temptation for him or his followers to resist trying to obtain, and so I had it brought to Hogwarts, guarded by a series of obstacles to make it almost impossible to find. Nevertheless, one of Voldemort's followers managed to come perilously close to stealing it. Without the help of a few of our students, he would have done so.

"Afterwards, I recovered the Stone from its hiding place and disposed of it permanently," Dumbledore finished. "Nicholas died last year, just short of his 670th birthday."

"Fascinating," Luthor said. "There's just one problem with all that."

"And what is that?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"I think you're lying."

"Oh?" Dumbledore looked interested by this claim. "Why would I lie?"

"Come now, Professor!" Luthor looked almost hurt by Dumbledore's manner. "A man creates a substance that makes him rich and gives him eternal life, and after 600 years he's asked to give it up so some upstart wizard with a thirst for power and immortality won't steal it from him? That's not very believable, Professor!"

"Wizards do not think like men, Mr. Luthor," Dumbledore pointed out. "After 600 years Nicholas and his wife were ready to experience the next phase of life, the one beyond this one. They simply needed a sufficient reason to move onward. Giving up the Stone so that it would not fall into the wrong hands was that reason." Dumbledore looked intently at the other man, though Luthor kept his gaze averted from the wizard's eyes. "What is your reason for wanting the Stone, Lex?"

Luthor smirked. He hadn't mentioned his first name yet; the professor had obviously checked him out before coming here. "Well, let's just say I have a little experiment in mind of my own."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "There are some lesser known properties of the Stone. One of them is, it can be used to create a potion that will endow a normal human with magical powers, though the Stone will be consumed in the process."

Luthor shrugged slightly. "I guess I can't put one past you, can I? Yes, that's the reason I want the Stone — to make myself into a wizard."

Dumbledore stood abruptly. "I cannot allow that, Lex. You are much too dangerous, even as a Muggle, for me to allow this conversation to continue." He took out his wand and sent a Stunner at Luthor's chest.

However, before it reached him, Luthor was suddenly a foot to the left of where he'd been. The bolt ricocheted harmlessly off the back wall. Dumbledore adjusted his aim and fired another bolt, but Luthor dodged the second one as effortlessly as he had the first. "You can stop trying to stun me, Professor — I can move faster than any magic you can cast at me."

"Intriguing," Dumbledore said, lowering his wand. "How is this possible?"

In answer, Luthor's face shimmered and become that of Superman. "Polyjuice Potion and a bit of Superman's blood have given me his powers," he said. "I've had a spell on me that made me resemble my original features, to keep you off-guard." Luthor gave a short nod.

"How were you able to obtain such a spell —" even as he asked the question, however, Dumbledore felt a dreamlike lethargy come over him, and his features became slack. Behind him, a small form faded into view — Dedalus Diggle, who had been waiting, invisible, in the front room, for Luthor's signal to use the Imperius Curse on the headmaster.

"Have a seat," Luthor said, and Dumbledore sat slowly down on the chair he'd risen from. "Nice work, Mr. Diggle."

Dedalus smiled at the compliment. "You should be able to ask him anything you want to know, Mr. Luthor."

"So, Professor," Luthor said, addressing Dumbledore once again. "What did you really do with the Philosopher's Stone?"

Dumbledore did not answer. He appeared to be struggling not to speak. "No holding back now," Luthor chided him. "Tell me what you did with it."

"It…" Dumbledore blinked, as if trying to awaken himself, but his face retained its blank, even composure. "It is…safe."

"Ah!" Luthor grinned triumphantly. "So you didn't destroy it after all."

"Such would have been a great loss to the Wizarding world," Dumbledore said, slowly. "I preferred to let everyone, even Harry Potter, who kept Voldemort from obtaining it, think it had been destroyed."

Luthor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What did you do with it?"

In response Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "You have to tell me, Professor," Luthor insisted. "That secret is not something you should burden yourself with."

Dumbledore frowned. "Burden?"

"Yes," Luthor said softly, leaning down to speak into Dumbledore's ear. "Just tell me — I promise no one else will know."

After a moment, Dumbledore spoke. "It — is with Nicholas."

Luthor nodded. So Flamel was still alive as well. "And where is Nicholas?" he purred in Dumbledore's ear.

"He — is in — New York City, in a location known as Greenwich Village," Dumbledore muttered. "He is living in a townhouse there under the name Nathan Fine."

"What's the address?" Luthor wanted to know.

"I only know its location," Dumbledore answered. "It is the third townhouse from the northeast corner of Perry and Blecker Streets."

"Close enough," Luthor said, satisfied he had enough information to find Flamel. He would be paying the old man a visit shortly, before his hour was up and his super powers disappeared. He looked at Diggle. "Bind him and put him to sleep — I'll want to talk to him again, after I get the Stone."

Ropes shot out of Diggle's wand, binding Dumbledore's arms against his body. With another wave of Diggle's wand the professor's head slumped forward. Diggle reached into his robes, pulling out the professor's wand, and sat it on the desk in front of Luthor.

"Watch him carefully," Luthor ordered Diggle, who nodded and watched as Luthor suddenly vanished, moving at super-speed. After a few moments he walked around behind the desk and sat down, putting his legs on the corner, a difficult maneuver for so short a man. He glanced scornfully at the sleeping wizard, then smiled with self-satisfaction and leaned back in the chair.

Several moments later, unnoticed by Diggle, the professor's wand slowly moved of its own accord, until it was pointing at Diggle, who suddenly yawned then dropped off to sleep. Dumbledore opened his eyes, smiling, as the ropes fell away from him. He stood, retrieving his wand, then directed it toward Diggle, who floated into the air and into the chair Dumbledore had just vacated. Reaching into another part of his robes, Dumbledore took out a vial of gray potion, then pulled a few of his hairs free and dropped them in the vial, which promptly turned bright red. He pulled a few hairs from Diggle's head, then fed the potion to Diggle, watching as the man's features changed to match his own. He then dropped the hairs in a second vial and watched as it changed to a puce color, then drank it down. A few moments later, the transformation complete, he now resembled Dedalus Diggle. With a few more flicks of his wand he exchanged their clothing, making the transformation complete. Ropes shot from his wand, retying the transformed Diggle to the chair, and Dumbledore sat down at the desk to await Luthor's return. He hoped things were going well with Harry's rescue.

=ooo=

In the Dark Dimension, Dr. Fate suddenly announced, "He's gone."

Superman gave the masked mystic a sharp look. "What do you mean — gone? Is Harry…"

"No." Fates's helmet shook slowly. "His aura has suddenly faded from my perception." They had been moving slowly through the dark, foreboding streets of the altered Dark Dimension, edging closer and closer to Harry's supposed location.

"Perhaps Clea has moved him," Doctor Strange suggested. "She knows we are here."

Fate nodded agreement. "Harry was undoubtedly moved. The question is — to where?"

"We've been at this forever!" Supergirl complained, rubbing a shoulder that still didn't feel right, after she'd slammed both fists into a hulking monstrosity that had threatened Clark.

"No," Superman shook his head. "It's only been a few minutes since we arrived here."

"I thought we'd find him and be done by now," Supergirl continued. "And I can feel my powers beginning to diminish."

Superman felt it too — he was no longer quite as fast or strong as he felt on Earth. The lack of yellow solar radiation was sapping their super-abilities. It must be this way for Harry as well, he realized; by now; only his ability to use magic would still remain with him. "There must be some way for us to locate him," he said, tensely.

"What about the Trace?" Magik asked. "Can't that be used to locate underage wizards like Harry, since it's put on all children in the British Isles?" Superman looked at Strange and Fate hopefully.

"It's worth a try," Fate said. The two sorcerers faced in opposite directions, sending out waves of magic to detect the spell that had been cast on Harry shortly after his birth. But after a minute —

"Nothing," Fate announced. "Either Harry is no longer in the Dark Dimension, which I do not believe, or —"

"The time differential," Strange finished. Fate nodded.

"What's that mean?" Supergirl asked.

"Time is passing differently here than on Earth," Fate explained. "The difference is quite large — I believe something like 180 hours pass on Earth for every hour we spend here. At that rate, Harry would have aged around two years in the four days he's spent here."

"Two years?" Supergirl blanched. "And he's had to live through every day of that?"

"Probably so," Strange nodded.

"That means we've got to wrap this up in a hurry," Superman decided. It was too bad that the Trace hadn't worked; but there was something else, something Strange had said about Harry's "aura"—that it was almost unique.

And, he suddenly realized — if that was true for Harry, it could also be true for him.

"Maybe there is something we can do," Superman announced, having the others move closer so he could describe it to everyone. "When I first arrived on Earth, Harry and I were in an accident involving kryptonite and a lightning bolt that struck us both when I was in a weakened state. The electrical bolt passing through us somehow transferred some of my super-abilities to Harry."

"What are you thinking, Superman?" Dr. Strange asked.

"Harry has powers similar to mine and Supergirl's — his cellular structure was altered by the accident somehow; it enabled his body to absorb and use yellow solar radiation, just as we do," Superman explained. "I think it should be possible to use my aura to find a similar one, somewhere in the Dark Dimension. That should be Harry."

"Ingenious," Dr. Fate observed.

"It should work," Dr. Strange agreed. "At least, it's worth a try."

=ooo=

With his super-powers, it did not take Lex Luthor long to make the trip from Chicago to New York. He'd been practicing flying — the only thing he needed was a GPS to keep himself on course. He'd punched in the coordinates for Greenwich Village and took to the skies, stopping every hundred miles or so to recheck his bearings, and his watch. He had about 30 minutes left of his hour with super-powers, and he wanted to make every second count.

It took a couple of minutes to locate Perry and Blecker Streets; Luthor then flew down, landing in the shadow of the townhouse, and approached its front door on foot. He used X-ray vision to look through the different rooms of the building, hoping to uncover the Stone before ever entering the place. If he could do that, he could simply go in at super-speed, snatch the rock, and be gone before anyone inside had realized what happened. But Luthor saw nothing that would resemble the Philosopher's Stone, supposedly a red crystalline rock. He did see a single occupant, an old man reading a book on potions. His appearance matched the old drawings of Nicholas Flamel Luthor had seen in various magical history books. It looked like he would have to persuade the man to part with his precious rock.

Inside, the old man was still absorbed in the book when suddenly Luthor was standing beside his easy chair. Luthor softly cleared his throat, and the old man looked up, surprised. "What are you doing in my house?" he asked, his voice sounding brittle and cracked. He nodded toward the door. "If it's money you want, I have none. You may as well leave now."

"It's not money I want, Mr. Fine," Luthor said, leaning over to look in the man's eyes. "I want the Stone?"

The old man's brow furrowed as he frowned. "You want a stone? Check outside — there's thousands of them out there."

"Perhaps," Luthor agreed. "But none of them will do what your Stone will do, will they?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man said, stubbornly.

"Pity," Luthor said, taking the man by his housecoat lapels and hoisting him effortlessly into the air. The man's eyes grew wide with surprise and fear. Now he had the old coot's attention!

"You're Nicholas Flamel," Luthor told him, "and you have the only known Philosopher's Stone. I've already confirmed this with your good friend, Dumbledore — though he didn't give up the information easily, mind you.

"Now, you can hand it over to me, or I can start breaking your limbs, one at a time, until you tell me where it is. It's all up to you."

The old man nodded quickly. "I'll tell, I'll tell you! Let me down, please!" Luthor lowered the man to the floor, and he pointed a shaky finger toward a table with a small wooden box on it. "It's in there," he said.

Luthor turned. "I didn't see that before, when I checked the house with my X-ray vision."

"The box has an enchantment on it that keeps anything from passing through the box. Your X-rays would not penetrate, so it would be invisible, even to your vision powers."

Smiling with anticipation, Luthor approached the table and opened the box, staring at the ruby-red stone inside. "At last," he said softly, then frowned. "Wait a minute — something's not right."

"What do you mean?" the old man asked, sounding fearful. "That's the Stone!"

"It doesn't look right," Luthor said. "The Stone should be translucent, glowing softly red." He shook his head warningly at Flamel. "You shouldn't try to trick me."

"It's not a trick!" the old man insisted. He sighed, looking defeated, then said, "There is a spell on the Stone — a two-part spell that inhibits its magical properties until I and another person perform the counterspell."

"Who's the other person?" Luthor demanded, though he had pretty much already guessed who it was.

"Albus Dumbledore," the old man said, confirming Luthor's guess. "We decided on that method of protecting the Stone in case anyone tried to steal it."

It was a good thing he'd kept Dumbledore alive, Luthor thought. He held out the box with the Stone in it. "Perform your half of the counterspell."

The old man took out a wand and muttered several phrases over the Stone, which became shiny once again but did not start glowing. "The — the rest is up to Dumbledore," he said at last, putting his wand down.

"Fine," Luthor said. He took a potion bottle from his jacket. "Drink this."

The old man looked at it warily. "What — what is it?"

"It's a Draught of Living Death," Luthor said. "One of your wizard friends will doubtlessly come by and wake you up, eventually — but for the time being I don't want you alerting anyone. Bottoms up."

The old man unstoppered the bottle and, after a look at Luthor, drained the contents in three gulps. After only a second he began to feel unsteady and settled back into his chair; then his head fell forward, his hands dropped into his lap, and his breathing slowed to — nothing. Even with super-hearing Luthor could hear no sound of air going in or out of his lungs. His heart was beating very slowly, perhaps once or twice a minute, barely noticeable.

Luthor nodded in satisfaction. "Ta-ta, pleasant dreams," he said, tucking the box under his arm and stepping outside to leap straight upward into the sky and out of sight within seconds.

A minute later, as the old man's sleeping form continued to slump in the chair, not one but two potion vials fell from his hand. His eyelids fluttered, and he slowly sat upright once again. Muggles, he thought sneeringly. Even the "geniuses" aren't too bright. The second vial, which he'd palmed when Luthor handed him the vial of Living Death to drink, had contained a delayed antidote to the sleeping potion. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Just in time, too! His hour was almost up —

Even as he thought this, the churning sensation that signaled the end of the Polyjuice Potion's effects welled up inside him, and the man grimaced, stoically enduring the painful transformation back to his original sallow-faced features. After several seconds "Nicholas Flamel" had disappeared — in his place was Severus Snape.

Snape picked up the potions book and resumed reading. The rest of this operation would be up to Dumbledore.

=ooo=

In the safe room, Harry had run the gamut of scrying and detection spells, to no avail. Wherever the safe room was — below the Palace, somewhere nearby, or even in its own pocket dimension, Harry could not identify anything around him. Clea had enough wards surrounding the room that even his magical training over the past two years couldn't break through. He could be locked up in here for a long time, depending on Clea's mood — she couldn't be very happy with him right now, given his unflinching rejection of her. Harry felt a shiver run through his body.

What else could he do, though? Clea had pretending to be interested in him, to lure him away from the Academy, then kidnapped him and brought him here to her home, the Dark Dimension. While she claimed to be training him to help her fight Dormammu, her uncle and the previous Sorcerer Supreme of this realm, Harry felt like she was trying to win him over, to make him attracted to her.

She was beautiful, Harry admitted to himself. In the past two years his body had matured, and he'd felt…desires… for female companionship. Clea's breasts were round and firm, her hips voluptuous and inviting. Several times Harry had caught himself staring at her bum, wanting to touch it…

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his face in frustration and self-disgust. How could he think this way, after all this time? Was his captivity getting to him? He felt another shiver run through his body.

But wait a second! Some felt wrong. The shivers he was feeling weren't from cold or fear. Was it possible someone was trying to contact him? Harry held himself stock still, thinking of nothing, until another shiver passed through his body. "Yeah!" he said aloud. "I'm here! Can you hear me?"

Back in the Dark Dimension proper, Doctors Strange and Fate had each put a hand on Superman's chest and were using his aura as a guide in sending out waves of magical energy tuned to the physiological structure of Kryptonians. They had already masked out Supergirl's aura, who stood watching nearby with Magik. "Anything yet?" Supergirl asked anxiously.

"Still searching," Strange said, his voice sounding far away. "Still —"

"Got him," Fate said.

"Well, show me the location!" Magik said impatiently. "I'll go get him!"

"I want to come with you!" Supergirl said, impulsively. Magik had stepped closer to Fate, who reached out with a gloved hand and touched her forehead, imparting the information on Harry's location directly into her mind.

Superman had slumped when Strange and Fate let go of him — his reserves were nearly spent. "No, Kara, I'll go — he's my friend —"

"Don't be silly," Supergirl said. "You've been protecting us all from the guards and — things — in this place. You need to rest. I'll go with Magik."

"No," Superman shook his head tiredly. "I can do it."

"Sorry, Supes," Magik said. "But she's right." She stepped next to Supergirl. "We'll be right back!"

"Wait —!" Superman put out a hand, but Magik and Supergirl disappeared as a bright white circle of light appeared beneath them. They reappeared a moment later inside a small, stone room.

Supergirl shook her head, wide-eyed. "What — what was that place we were in just now, before we came here?" she asked Magik, sounding shaken. She had never been in a place that felt so — so wrong, before.

"Oh," Magik shrugged. "Otherplace — Limbo — call it what you want. I can teleport pretty much anywhere I know exists, but I have to go through there first. That's my little realm, though some of my subjects have plans to kick me out." She shrugged again. "It's a bitch, being a Sorceress Supreme."

"Tell me about it." Magik and Supergirl looked around at the sound of the male voice in the room. Seated on the floor in a lotus position was Harry. As they watched, he rose, still sitting, into the air, then let his legs drop down to the floor. "I'm glad you're here!" he said, walking over to them. He looked at Magik. "Miss Rasputin?"

"Yeah, it's me, Harry," Magik grinned. "It took us a while to find you."

"I'll say it has," Harry agreed. "I've been here two years!" Harry was now taller and more muscular than when he'd come here; his face was thinner and more mature, though his hair had retained its characteristic unruly look. He looked at Supergirl. "Linda! How did you get into this?"

"Call me Kara — that's my real name," Kara replied. When Harry looked at her questioningly, she said, "It's a long story." Harry's eyebrows went up, and she added, "No, we don't have time to get into it right now!"

"I can wait," Harry said. He turned to Magik. "If you have a way out of here," he said to her, "then let's do it. I have no idea where in the Dark Dimension we are."

"Neither do I," Magik admitted. Then, at the looks of dismay on Harry and Supergirl's faces, she grinned and added, "Fortunately, I know where we are going — back to rejoin the others." She stepped between the two and took an arm of each once. "Here we go," she said, as a white "stepping disc" appeared beneath the trio and they vanished.

They reappeared a moment later next to Superman and Doctors Fate and Strange, Supergirl with a look of disgust on her face at the momentary images she'd glimpsed in Limbo. Harry simply looked at Magik and commented, "That was interesting," before walking over to Superman, who put his hands on the younger man's shoulders.

"You're taller," was the only thing Superman could think to say at the moment.

"Funny," Harry replied. "I thought you'd gotten a bit shorter." Superman smiled; at six-four, he was still several inches taller than Harry.

Harry shook hands with both Dr. Fate and Dr. Strange, who said, "It is time for us to return to Earth."

"Wait a minute," Magik objected. "What about the Eye? We need to get that away from Clea so she can't use it again in the future."

Strange shook his head. "We've already been here too long — with the difference in time nearly a week has passed back on Earth."

"I can fix that," Magik said. "I can teleport us all back to just after we left."

Supergirl moved close to Harry. "When we get back," she said softly, "I'd like to hear about what happened to you here."

Harry looked at her. "Okay," he said. "I'd like to hear how you went from being Linda to being Kara. And what's with these clothes," he asked her, gesturing to her uniform.

"I'm helping Kal — Superman," she said, proudly. "I'm going to be Supergirl when we get back home."

Harry managed to look surprised at this. "You have super-powers, too? Did Superman find a way to give them to you?"

"I've had them since I came to Earth," Kara said. "I'm Kryptonian, like him — we're first cousins."

"Really?" Harry said. "How long have you been on Earth?"

"You should remember," she said, almost teasingly. "You met me just a week or so after I got here. I didn't know much about Earth, then."
"I remember now," Harry nodded. "I wondered why you were acting so strangely."

"Strangely?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "You think I was acting strange?"

"Er —" Harry wasn't sure how to back out of this. "I mean — I thought you just — weren't being very nice."

"Oh, really," she said, annoyed. "I had no idea who you were!"

"Mrs. Kent knew me!" Harry protested.

"So? You might've been some kid from the general store, making a delivery."

"You asked me if I was Clark," Harry reminded her.

"So?" she said again. "Who else would just walk into his mother's house as if he owned the place?"

Harry was becoming exasperated. "Never mind, then," he said. "Let's just drop the whole thing."

"Fine by me!" she retorted, turning away from him as Dr. Strange gestured for their attention.

"Everyone, gather close so Magik can return us to Earth. She will return us to as close when we left as she can."

"None of you are going anywhere," a new voice rang out, and a shiver ran down Harry's spine. He'd recognized who'd just spoken.

Clea. She had appeared overhead, in a burst of multicolored lights, and was staring down at them in obvious anger. "Did you think I would simply let you spirit Harry away before his work here was done?"

Doctor Strange looked up at her. "Clea, your battle with Dormammu is not Harry's responsibility. You should have asked me —"

"You?" Clea snorted derisively. "You couldn't even keep the Eye from me — do you think dread Dormammu would have had any more difficulty taking it from you than I did?"

"Given that you stole it," Magik spoke up. "Stephen didn't even have —" her voice cut off as Clea gestured at her. Harry stared at Magik — she was frozen solid, motionless, from Clea's magic.

"I don't need to hear anything from you," Clea snapped. "Some two-bit trollop from a pitiful little dimension, barely worth noticing!"

"Stop this!" Dr. Fate commanded, rising into the air to confront the sorceress directly. "You cannot defeat all of us, Clea!"

"You don't think so?" Clea was amused. She gestured at Fate with both hands; the blue-and-gold-clad figure suddenly vanished in a burst of white light.

Dr. Strange and the others stared, aghast at what they'd witnessed. "What did you do, Clea?" Strange demanded. "Is she —"

"Not dead," Clea finished, "but banished to the far reaches of the Dark Dimension." She turned her attention to Dr. Strange. "Sorry, Stephen, but you're banished as well, but I'm not going to be completely unreasonable. You may return to Earth when you agree to give me the Orb of Agamotto."

Strange shook his head. "I'll never agree to that —" his reply was cut off as he, too, vanished in a flash of light.

Clea turned to the remaining four. "As for you…Harry, since you found the little blonde bimbo to be so interesting —" she nodded toward Supergirl, "you and her can enjoy some time together." Both Harry and Kara vanished.

Finally, the Sorceress Supreme turned to Superman. "I suppose you've figured out by now that there's no yellow sun here, to recharge your Kryptonian system," she said.

Superman merely stared stonily at her. "Where are you sending us?" he finally asked, glancing toward Magik.

"Oh, nowhere," Clea replied. "You two are staying right here in my little version of your stifling, grimy city. But don't worry," she smiled evilly. "I'll be sending some of my subjects in to keep you entertained. Have fun." Clea vanished.

Magik blinked, suddenly able to move again, then looked at Superman. "Aw, crap," she said.

Author's Note: Reviews are requested and appreciated.