Welcome back to Young Justice: Marauders. I know it's been a while, but I haven't been lazy. At least, I haven't just been lazy. I have, however, been dealing with the issue that most of my current inspiration for this story is focused on arcs that are literally dozens of chapters away. I've made plenty of progress on those, and in a few years' time I'm sure you'll appreciate the effort. For now, though, it took a while to figure out my current chapter. I've got it cornered now, and I'm closing in for the kill, so I decided it was time to put this out.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you'll be kind enough to review this one as well. This story doesn't get nearly as much feedback as CJWO, largely thanks to Young Justice's smaller fandom, so every little bit goes a long way.

Please show whatever support you can afford to the people of Ukraine. Thank you.

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Chapter 5

August 28, 2009, 17:22

Churchill, Maine

The crack of Harry's Apparition vanished amongst the cacophony coming from the town. He hadn't bothered with the usual copse of trees this time. There wasn't time for a quarter mile sprint to the town proper, and he didn't much care if anyone heard him arrive. He Apparated right into the middle of the main road. Immediately, he had to duck away from a flying demon before it crashed into his head. Only years of dodging Bludgers saved him. When he straightened back up, he got his first look at the surrounding town.

The noise struck him first. It was like a blow to the head, but ongoing. Screeching, roaring, burning, breaking. It all blended into a chaotic howl. He noticed the heat second. Every building he could see was on fire. Flames burst from shattered windows like blood from a wound. Already, roofs were starting to cave in and walls were crumbling. Sparks danced through the air in morbid imitation of fireflies. Sweat didn't even have time to bead on his forehead before it sizzled away. Each breath felt like filling his lungs with hot coals. Smoke filled the air with the acrid stench of burning plastic, stinging his eyes and strangling him. Through his coughs, he barely managed to cast a Bubblehead charm. Cool, clean air rushed down his throat, and he gulped it in desperately.

The last thing he noticed were the demons. He wasn't sure if they really were demons in the religious sense, but they were certainly horrible enough to earn the label on looks alone. No two looked alike. One had a mouth full of eyes, all rolling wildly, and grasping hands for hair. Another walked on a dozen legs, human, lizard, dog, insect, horse, and bird, all side by side. It had no visible head, just a gaping maw at either end of its glistening, sinuous body. The one that had nearly collided with him flew about on the tattered, translucent wings of a dragonfly. Their buzz set his teeth on edge and they cast shimmering shadows across the street as they caught the firelight. Its body looked like a lynx that had been flayed alive and stuck full of nails. More rushed or slithered or hopped about, each one fertile ground for future nightmares. A few had crowded around a dark lump on the sidewalk. Sickening crunches drifted from their midst, and they flung bits of debris over their heads. One landed a few feet away, and Harry leaned down to get a closer look. It was a shoe, stained dark red and torn along one side.

'No,' he thought numbly. "No!"

There was no trifling with minor jinxes and hexes this time. Anger as hot as any of the surrounding fires boiled in his gut. His teeth ground and his hand was white knuckled around his wand. He took aim and fired off the first curse that came to mind. It had worked once, and now wasn't the time for experimenting.

"CONFRINGO!"

The light of the spell was all but invisible, framed against the fires, but its effects were impossible to miss. One of the imps, a flabby lump of decaying flesh and hair, exploded with a deafening thump and a blinding flash. The rest vanished in a cloud of dust and fire. The explosion was powerful enough to knock Harry off his feet even from across the road, and he rolled over the asphalt for a few yards before scrambling to his feet. His hand stung where the asphalt had torn the skin, but it was a distant sensation; not important right now. There wasn't time for such minor pain. There wasn't time for anything but making these monsters pay for what they'd done.

The explosion had drawn a lot of attention, but none of the milling imps seemed to know what had happened. They thrashed about in a blind frenzy, clawing at each other in their rush to find whoever had attacked them. The Cloak was doing its job well, and he remained undetected. Taking advantage of the confusion, he let loose.

"Reducto."

"Bombarda Maxima."

"Expulso."

"Lacero."

Spell after spell flew into the unsuspecting imps, and the air filled with their wails of shocked agony. He forgot all about the silent casting Sirius had been teaching him in favor of venting the outrage and horror he felt on the beasts who'd invaded his new home. Twisted limbs flew amidst arcs of black ichor. One demon burst in a fountain of sludge, like a slug hit with a mallet. Most, however, just snarled at their wounds, if they took any, and swiped madly at thin air, searching for whatever was attacking them. A building collapsed as one imp, a snake with the head of a bull and translucent skin, smashed through the brick wall to escape his assault. The falling rubble sent sparks billowing a hundred feet into the sky. Twice, Harry had to dance out of the way of an errant claw, and he thanked every lucky star in the sky for the Cloak. Without it, he doubted he'd have lasted a minute.

Eventually, he had to let up on the barrage of curses. His breath came in gasps, and sweat stung at his eyes. Not even during the battle in the Department of Mysteries had he cast so many powerful spells so fast. It left him light-headed and woozy, but he did his best to ignore it and inspected his work. Four more demons were dead, and a dozen more bore injuries of some sort. Strangely, the dead ones dissolved into some sort of clear goo after a few seconds. It was just a drop in the bucket, though. More demons poured out of the smoke. He could see dozens of the monsters, and doubtless more lurked out of sight.

Strangely, he didn't see any people. No living people, at least. There were a few corpses, or sticky puddles where corpses once had been, but no one running around, no one taking shelter, no one injured or crying. He tried to peer through the smoke, desperate to find anyone. Looking made it easier to ignore the part of him that had taken one look at that bloody shoe and hadn't stopped screaming since.

He couldn't look for very long, though. From above, a dull purple glow shone through the smoke, and a man floated down on a disc of glowing arcane symbols. He wore robes that might have been blue, once. Now they were too stained and torn to say for sure. He had on golden armor beneath his robes, and a golden circlet on his brow over a flap of cloth that could have been a skullcap when it was new. Stringy grey hair poked out from its frayed margins. His face was gaunt and sallow, with hollow cheeks, a hooked beak of a nose, and a sharp chin. Deep-sunken eyes peered out over the demons, uncaring of the carnage below. In one hand, he clutched a thick book. Harry didn't recognize the man, but from the way the imps shied away at his approach, it could only be the mysterious sorcerer Sirius had been fighting. But if he was here, did that mean Sirius was-?

'No. No! This guy must have just run away. He must have. Sirius is fine.'

The man waved a hand and the demons all skittered away. Even the wounded did their best to crawl out of the street. He stroked the spine of the book idly as he looked around, dark eyes searching.

"Where are you, boy?" His voice was as sharp as his face, and had a whiny drawl to it that reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy. "I know you're here. I can smell your magic in the air. Well done, slaying so many of my pets. I'd feared you were a weakling after that pathetic display you gave earlier, but it seems first impressions can deceive after all. Come out, boy, that we may be better acquainted."

Harry didn't move. He hardly dared breathe. Whoever this was, whatever he wanted, showing himself was undoubtedly the stupidest decision he could make. The man didn't look all that impressive. He was rather short, and his sagging, sallow skin gave him an unhealthy look, as if he'd been weeks without a decent meal. But Harry had seen his power from afar when he'd watched him duel Sirius. Sickly or not, he would probably flatten him in a fight without blinking.

"Still hiding, hmm?" The man sighed. "Quite well, too. Still, there are solutions to every problem."

His free hand clenched into a fist, and Harry felt a tingle run down his spine. The ground trembled once and then erupted into motion. The street bucked and churned like the Black Lake in a storm. Cracks split the asphalt, and the nearest building collapsed in on itself. Harry tried to keep his balance, but it was impossible. The ground beneath his feet tossed him into the air and sent him sprawling, his wand clattering out of his hand. He cracked his head on the street, and stars flashed behind his eyes. All the breath left his body in a colossal rush, and the hood slipped off his head.

"Ah, there you are. My, what a beautiful cloak. You must tell me all about it. But later. For now…"

Unseen hands grabbed his limbs and hauled Harry upright. He struggled and twisted, but their grip never faltered. He couldn't move his limbs at all. All he could do was twist his head, which only sent a fresh wave of pain through his newly bruised skull. The man walked towards him at a leisurely pace, heedless of his glares.

"Who are you?" Harry growled. "What do you want?"

The man appeared to consider his words for a moment before he shook his head. "No, no questions." With a snap of his fingers, Harry felt his mouth lock shut. "Normally, I would indulge you. I enjoy a bit of conversation now and then, no matter my reputation. But I'm afraid we've no time for the niceties." He drew a curved bronze dagger from his belt. "I fear this will hurt quite a bit. It's nothing personal, though. Just a business transaction."

He drew closer, holding the dagger in front of him loosely. "I will tell you my name, though, before we start. It's only polite. After all, soon it'll be your name. I am Felix Faust."

Harry eyed the dagger warily. The scar on his forearm ached in time with his heartbeat as he remembered the last time he'd been in a similar position. Immobilized, disarmed, a dark wizard walking towards him with a knife. For a moment, he was back in that graveyard, the cold marble of the headstone pressed against his back, Wormtail's ropes cutting into his arms and legs. He could see the cauldron, the hideous baby-thing that had been Voldemort, Cedric's lifeless eyes staring up at him-

'Not again!' He thought desperately. 'Never again!'

Sirius had been working with him on the basics of wandless magic for weeks now, but he'd only managed a few minor spells, and none of them silently. It took focus and calm to cast without a wand. Sirius claimed it would get easier with practice, but there was no time for practice now. Now, as that dagger inched towards his chest, it was do or die. He shouted spells in his head, trying to free himself, trying to blast Felix Faust into oblivion, trying anything. The dagger inched closer. He could feel his magic, feel tendrils of it extending outward, but they wouldn't form into a proper spell. The dagger inched closer. Each hammer beat of his heart felt like a countdown to his death.

'Get away,' he thought desperately. The dagger was almost touching him now. He could see the point of it brushing his shirt. 'Get away from me! GET AWAY!'

Like puzzle pieces finally fitting together after a dozen fumbling attempts, he felt his magic snap into place. Just the barest hint of cold metal kissed the skin of his chest before a green flash lit the air in front of him. Faust's eyes widened before he flew backwards with a loud "snap". The hands holding Harry in place vanished as the sorcerer tumbled head over heels across the shattered road. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, eyes screwed shut against the flare of pain in his head. He wanted to clutch at his head and moan, to lie on the ground unmoving until the throbbing went away. He couldn't, though. Whatever wandless magic he'd managed may have taken Faust by surprise, but there was no way it had taken the man down for more than a few seconds. Sure enough, when he forced his eyes open, through the flashing lights and the film of tears, he could see the man already struggling to his feet.

All the pain in his head forgotten, Harry dove for his wand. His fingers wrapped around the familiar wood just in time. Faust shouted something he couldn't make out, and thick, thorny vines burst out of the ground. They shot right for him, deadly thorns glistening in the light of the burning town. Harry waved his wand in a wide arc.

"Duros." The vines froze in place, green wood transformed into gray stone. Unable to bear the sudden weight, the petrified vines shattered into large chunks of solid stone. Before Faust could follow up, Harry flicked his wand again.

"Opugno." The effort of the spell sent him to his knees, vision flickering black, but it worked. The falling rock ceased its journey earthward and sped towards Faust instead. The sorcerer was suddenly at the center of his own personal meteor shower. Judging by the furious shout, he didn't find the experience as entertaining as Harry did.

Victory was short-lived, however. Harry didn't see what Faust did, but all the rocks exploded into dust. He raised his wand, ready to defend himself again, but he was too slow. Purple lightning flickered through the air in an instant and slammed into him. He didn't even have time to scream.

The lightning wrapped around him like a net, and he collapsed like a boned fish. Every cell in his body screeched with agony. His blood felt like it was boiling in his veins. His bones groaned in protest as his muscles spasmed, twisting his limbs in unnatural directions. It wasn't as bad as Voldemort's Cruciatus curse, but it was close.

"Very impressive, young wizard," Faust said. Despite the compliment, his voice was ice cold. White spots of anger stood out against his flushed face. "Few could claim to have done so well against me. But it's over now."

Harry wanted to curse him. To spit in his face. To do anything, but he couldn't focus. The net of lightning flared brighter every time he tried to gather his thoughts, driving them apart again. All he could do was watch as, once again, Faust hefted his dagger. There was no slow, dramatic approach this time. He crossed the distance between them in four quick strides and raised the dagger to plunge it into Harry's chest. His hand had only just begun to fall, though, when a beam of golden fire, bright as the sun and more solid than steel, took him at the wrist. His entire hand and forearm, dagger included, simply ceased to exist. There wasn't even any ash. They were just gone. Faust gaped at the cauterized stump uncomprehendingly, and Harry was so surprised he didn't even notice the lightning had vanished, and the pain along with it. In unison, they turned to look at where the beam had come from. A dozen feet away, his suit as neat and fresh as if it had just come from the cleaners, stood Sirius Black.

"Get away from my student," he growled.

Faust stared at him, mouth moving silently. His face was chalk white, and he clutched at the charred stump of his right arm. "You- but how? I-"

Sirius barked a hard laugh. It had none of his usual joy in it. "It was a neat trick, I'll give you that. Summoning the Demons Three to keep me occupied. But I'm afraid they'll be needing a new name." He tossed something at Faust's feet. It landed with a wet splat and rolled to a stop. From his position on the ground, Harry could just barely make out what it was. A severed head, larger than a human's, with skin liked cracked leather and long pointed ears.

"Abnegazar," Faust breathed. He sounded as if he'd passed beyond fear and entered the cold, numb lands of unfettered terror. "How-"

"I'm not so weak as you believe, corpse taker," Sirius snapped. "And you attack my home? The Tower of Fate itself? You're either more desperate or more stupid than I'd imagined. Now…"

He raised a hand and began an incantation. Whatever it was meant to do, though, Harry never got to see. At that moment, his body finally lost the fight with his injuries, and darkness covered his mind. The last thing he saw was Faust, turning to run from the implacable destroyer that wore his godfather's face.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

August 29, 10:13

Bangor, Maine

Harry returned to the land of the living gradually. The first thing to drift through the fog of unconsciousness was sound. There was a distant murmur of voices and the click of footsteps on a hard floor. None of it made sense, but it was there. Next to make it through was the feel of blankets. He was on a bed, with warm blankets over him and a pillow under his head. His head that didn't hurt. For some reason he felt his head should be throbbing right now, but it wasn't. It was just a little fuzzy.

He couldn't say how long he languished in the blurry in-between state; not asleep, but not truly awake, either. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Eventually, though, he remembered he had eyes, and opened them. Light filled the darkness, bright and smeared with indistinct blobs. He squinted, but things stayed blurry. He didn't have his glasses. His hand groped blindly for his nightstand, but it wasn't there. That didn't seem right. Why would-?

"Harry?" That voice? That was Sirius. Memory came back all at once, and he pushed the blankets aside and tried to sit up.

Ah. There was the pain.

"Nnngghh." He clutched his head, which now throbbed as if it was making up for lost time, and let a gentle hand push him back onto the mattress.

"Whoa, take it easy, kid. You've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece." Yes, that was definitely Sirius, and he was definitely stressed if he was quoting Star Wars.

Harry tried to say, "You're not cool enough to be Obi-Wan." It came out as more of a slurred groan, but something must have made it across, because Sirius laughed.

"Screw you, you little shit. Here." He pressed cold metal onto Harry's face, and the world came back into focus. His glasses. He mumbled a thank you and tried to look around. Moving his head still wasn't a brilliant plan, though, and he groaned again.

"Where am I?" He asked when the pulsing headache cooled a little.

"A hospital in Bangor. And to forestall the usual cliches, you've been out for one night. It's about ten o'clock in the morning, though, sadly, it isn't October the 24th." He sounded a little regretful at that.

"Sorry I couldn't let you quote Tolkien, too," Harry mumbled. Everything was a little wobbly, and his stomach churned uneasily. Thinking was hard. "I'll be more considerate next time."

"I'll recover," Sirius said with altogether more dignity than he probably deserved. "And you will too, with some rest. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm." Harry wanted to protest, but sleep sounded too good to refuse. He wasn't even aware of when he closed his eyes.

The next time he woke it was late afternoon, verging on evening. The light streaming in through the window was just beginning to turn orange. He felt much more aware this go around. Unfortunately, that awareness included all the soreness and aching he'd been too out of it to notice the first time. Sirius was still there, and in the late afternoon light, he could see a change in the man. He looked… old.

Sirius never looked young these days, of course. But whereas before, the trappings of age had seemed merely a facade covering a man still in the vitality of youth, now they belonged to him in truth. His cheeks were hollow and lined with weariness. The wrinkles on his brow cast deep shadows across his face. There was a hitch to his movements, an unsteadiness that had never been there before. With shock, Harry saw he was leaning on a cane. Only the eyes were the same, bright and alert, though clouded with worry. When he tried to ask what had happened, though, Sirius hushed him with a waved hand.

A doctor came into his room and spoke gibberish for a while before leaving. A few minutes later, a nurse came in and translated. At the same time, Sirius' phone buzzed, and he left to take the call while Harry listened to the list of his injuries. Apparently, he had a concussion, extensive deep bruising, mild electrical burns, some respiratory irritation from inhaling smoke, and several other issues that fell under the umbrella of general exhaustion.

"You'll be fine," she said. "We'd just like to keep you for observation for another night. Just to be safe."

Harry opened his mouth to say he was fine, thanks, and he could leave now, but the nurse raised a single eyebrow and he swallowed his words. She didn't look a thing like Madam Pomfrey, but he doubted she'd be any less strict in ensuring he received every ounce of medical care she deemed necessary.

"Thanks," he said lamely. She smiled and hurried off, no doubt to bully someone else into properly caring for themselves. Sirius stepped back in as she left, still talking on the phone.

"-do that. I'm fine, Diana, and he will be, too." His tone was affectionate. Harry couldn't make out the voice on the phone, though. "He's awake now, so I have to go."

"… …"

"Yes, soon. I promise. Goodbye." He snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket before sitting in the chair next to Harry's bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry said automatically. Sirius was frowning and drumming his fingers on the edge of the chair. Abruptly, he tapped his cane on the floor and a shimmer of magic washed over the room. All the sounds of the hospital, the distant beeps of machines, the chatter of nurses, even the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights, vanished. The light from the window took on a hazy caste, as if shining through clouds.

"Sirius, what-"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sirius snapped. Harry flinched at the harsh tone, but he didn't seem to notice. "I told you to stay in the Tower. I said I'd handle it. Why in the blazes would you run off like that? You could have been killed. Or worse."

Harry gaped at him. "But, the town. There were demons attacking and- oh Merlin, the people. What happened-?"

"They're alive, mostly. I had measures in place to protect the town. The imps only got a few before they kicked in and got everyone to safety." Sirius grimaced when he mentioned the ones who hadn't made it. Memories of a blood-stained shoe tried to claw their way to the forefront of Harry's mind, but he beat them back. "Now answer me. Why the hell were you there, dueling Felix fucking Faust?"

Righteous anger flared up in Harry, and he glared at his godfather. "I thought the town was in danger!" He retorted loudly. "I saw the smoke, and I went to help. How was I supposed to know Felix bloody whoever would show up?"

"You never should have been there in the first place!" Now Sirius raised his voice, color entering his cheeks. "Did you think I told you to stay out for a laugh? You-"

"I WAS TRYING TO HELP!" Harry shouted. He hadn't meant to, but why couldn't Sirius just understand? His chest ached with the need for him to just understand. "THEY WERE ATTACKING THE TOWN. I COULDN'T JUST SIT THERE. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?"

"Not put your life in danger, for a start," Sirius shot back. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You've spent the past century putting your life on the line to help people. Why not me?"

"I had a duty!" Sirius was standing now, fists clenched. "A responsibility. It was my job."

"And what if I want it to be my job, too?" Harry asked in a low voice. He thought the words surprised himself almost as much as they did Sirius. His godfather froze, all the blood leaving his face.

"You-"

"You're always telling me about how we have a responsibility to use our power for good," Harry continued. He wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but they felt right. Saying them, he felt like he had a path under his feet for the first time in months. "I want to help. Even with your defenses, so many people still died. So many others lost everything. I'm not about to just let people like this Felix Faust get away with stuff like that. Not when I can help."

Sirius exhaled slowly. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I-"

"NO!" His shout was loud enough to make Harry jump. For an instant, the exhaustion melted away from Sirius' frame and he looked every inch the terrifyingly powerful wizard he had the night before. His eyes literally glowed with power. The lights flickered, and he took a deep breath before continuing with a shake of his head. "No. I won't let you risk your life like this."

"Oh, because my life's never been in danger before?" Harry scoffed. Sirius lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. Despite his age, his grip was like iron.

"Not like this," he hissed. "Never like this. Faust is nearly as bad as Voldemort ever was, and he's barely even a bit player compared to some of what's out there."

"That's why I can't just sit on the sidelines," Harry protested, trying to keep a grip on his temper. He wanted Sirius to understand why he wanted this, why he needed this. "Back home, you and my parents and the Order fought back against Voldemort because no one else could. I thought you were teaching me to do the same here. I thought you wanted me to take the Helmet when I got older."

If Sirius had been shocked before, he was absolutely stunned, now. His eyes almost popped out of his head, and he looked like he was choking on something for a moment. "Take the- Absolutely not!" He bit out. "I neverwant you wearing that Helmet. Never! Being Doctor Fate is… no. Just no. I was teaching you because I wanted you to experience all the wonder of magic in this world. Not so you could follow me as a hero. Certainly not so you could be Doctor Fate."

The vehemence in his voice when he talked about wearing the Helmet surprised Harry. He'd known Sirius had a complicated relationship with Nabu, that he didn't fully trust the Lord of Order, but there had been genuine fear in his voice when Harry had mentioned taking the mantle. More fear even than when he'd mentioned fighting people like Faust again. For whatever reason, the thought of him becoming Doctor Fate terrified Sirius.

Setting that aside as something to explore later, Harry kept pressing. "I don't care if you disapprove. I don't care if you think it's stupid. This matters to me. I need to make a difference. I'm going to fight against people like Faust, and you can't stop me."

Sirius eyed him, face unreadable. "I really could, you know."

Harry winced. That much, at least, was true, however much he hated the thought. If Sirius wanted to, he could probably keep him shut up in the Tower for the next fifty years.

"Will you?" He asked softly. He wished he could be more sure of the answer. Would his godfather really lock him up like the Dursleys had? Oh, the reasons would be different, and he didn't doubt Sirius would still treat him well, but the end result was the same. Him, in a cage, shut away from the life he wanted.

Sirius looked at him impassively for a second before sighing and collapsing back into the chair. He scrubbed a hand across his face, and suddenly Harry thought he looked more than just old. He looked tired. Even broken. His whole posture slumped in defeat.

"Dammit, boy," he muttered, his voice tight. "I have to go take care of some things at the Tower. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Tomorrow? Wha-"

"Tomorrow." Sirius's voice was firm, and he stood to go. "For now, stay here and get some more rest. That damn fool stunt of yours drained you near to empty. We'll talk when I get back. If we keep having this conversation now, one of us is going to say something we'll both regret."

Harry wanted to protest, to demand they finish their conversation. At the last moment, though, he thought better of it. Sirius was right, as much as he hated to admit it. If they kept at it now, they would say something that wasn't so easy to come back from, and he didn't want that. He'd rather have gone round for round with Voldemort than risk ruining what he had with his godfather.

"Fine," he growled, harsher than he meant to. Just because he knew Sirius was right didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Sirius nodded and tossed Harry a coin. It looked like an unremarkable silver dollar, but Harry could feel a faint hum of magic in it. "I'll be back in the morning. If you need me before then, just hold that to your mouth and talk. I'll hear you."

He hesitated in the doorway and looked back. "Your parents would be proud of what you tried to do yesterday. I'm proud of it. And of you." Then he limped away and was gone. Harry stared at the empty door, stunned and more than a little touched at the words. Before long, though, the urge to sleep came back, and he let it carry him off.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

August 29, 23:02

Location: Unknown

Only three of the screens were lit this time. The others hadn't been able to attend, but they would receive the same intelligence reports as the rest. The man in the room looked impassively at the video footage and written analysis on his tablet.

"My compliments to your operatives," he told one of the screens. "And to your plan to use Faust. He provided an excellent opportunity for surveillance and simultaneously proved himself unsuited for more complex roles in the future. You're sure there is no connecting him back to any of us."

"Not a chance," a woman's voice said, imperious and enticing all in one. "Even he does not know the tip about Sirius' new apprentice came from me. Speaking of which, the child proved quite impressive, given his youth."

"Indeed. My people tell me such skill and power is normally the province of men grown, with a decade or more of training." The man's cultured voice held a mote of respect. "And then there is Black himself. Age has not dulled that one, it seems. We will have to account for him going forward."

"We should kill him," a petulant voice whined. "Him and his new pet."

The man in the room quirked a lip. "In time, yes, Black will die. But not yet. If he dies now, another will no doubt take up the mantle of Doctor Fate. We are not prepared to face such a foe. However, this operation has revealed a weakness in our ranks."

"Magic," the cultured voice said. "We know too little of that world."

"Precisely," said the man in the room. "Faust may have disqualified himself as anything more than a tool, and we already have plans for Wotan, but there is another candidate I plan to approach. If all goes well, the chance to kill Sirius Black will provide an ample incentive for her to hear us out."

He pulled up the file he had on her and sent it to the others. 'Yes, my old love,' he thought as he gazed down at the lovely face on the screen. 'You will do well in the Light.'

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

August 29, 20:52

Tower of Fate

It was a long walk up to the top of the Tower in his condition, but Sirius refused to take any of the thousand shortcuts available to him. Every step sent fresh streamers of pain curling around his joints, but it was important. He felt in need of a lesson in humility, and there were few more effective teachers than the cane he had to rely on as he walked up the stairs.

He hated the cane. Hated it with the heat of a dying star. Age, marriage, fatherhood, grandfatherhood, and a career as Doctor Fate had not wholly rid him of his youthful vanity, and the cane was a reminder of something he was usually quite happy to ignore. He was old. Older than old. Ancient, even. He may not have often looked it, or even felt it, but he was. The Helmet and his own wizard's longevity had kept him in far better condition than most men half his age, but the battle with Faust had taken its toll. Sending such filth packing would once have been easy, especially with how weak Faust had been. Now, such a fight left him barely able to walk without gasping for air. He would recover, given time, but until then it was the cane.

Eventually, and after allowing himself more breaks than he would have cared to admit, he reached the roof, where the Helmet floated. Sirius stared at the gleaming artifact for over an hour before he took a step towards it. His fists clenched and loosed over and over, and he had to swallow to wet his throat. It was always stressful, asking questions of a being like Nabu. At best, you got ignored. At worst, you got answers. With a final deep breath to brace himself, he laid a hand on the warm metal of the Helmet and reached out with his mind.

Immediately, he was somewhere else. There was nothing around him. No stone Tower, no starry sky, no forest. Just blank, blue void, lit from an unseen source above. He stood on nothingness. It felt solid, but he knew that was only because his mind expected something he could stand on to be solid. In front of him floated the Helmet of Fate.

'No, not the Helmet,' he reminded himself. 'Nabu.'

"So, you have returned." The voice was as deep as an ocean and just as unfeeling. It was a voice that could pronounce doom on an entire planet and not lose a moment of sleep. "And I was right."

"Yes, damn you, you were right," he said. "Harry's decided to become a hero. I don't think I can talk him out of it."

"It was foolish of you to even try. I told you this would happen the night he arrived in our world. You of all beings, Sirius Black, should know. No one escapes their fate."

Sirius wanted to spit, but he couldn't. It wasn't even Nabu's fault. Not really. Despite the name, Doctor Fate didn't set people's destiny. He just made sure nothing interfered. Still, he couldn't keep the bitter tone out of his voice. Something about seeing Harry unconscious in a hospital bed, face pale save for the bruises, made etiquette seem unimportant.

"He shouldn't have to do this. He's just a kid, whatever he may think. He deserves better."

"What one deserves is of no consequence. He does not have to do anything. He is choosing his path. That it is an important path makes no difference to the choice." The voice softened just a hair, from stone to steel. "It would not be my choice to lay such a burden upon a child. But it is not my choice, nor is it yours. He has taken up this duty for himself."

"He doesn't understand what he's getting into," Sirius shouted. "Not even a tenth of it. Even I don't know, because you. Won't. Tell. Me. All you say is he's important. Important how? Why choose him?"

"I cannot tell you what I do not know. As for his ignorance, were you any better when you first donned the Helmet?"

Sirius grimaced. He didn't like it when Nabu made sense, especially not now. He needed the Lord of Order to be wrong.

"He understands that with his power comes a duty to use it well. Did you not teach him this yourself? Even before that, did he not often live his life in the protection of others? He is not important by any choice of mine or others. He is important because of who he is and the choices he will inevitably make. Now that he is here, his own nature places him on this path."

Sirius clenched his jaw. "Did you do this, Nabu? Did you bring him here when he fell through the Veil?"

Nothing about the Helmet changed, but it suddenly looked amused. "Even I would not dare meddle in the affairs of the Endless. I told you before and I now tell you again. Harry Potter's arrival in this world had nothing to do with the Lords of Chaos or Order. There are Powers beyond even our ken, and it is they who placed him here. I do not know why. But he is here, now, and this is the path he must walk."

"And where does this path end?" Sirius growled. "With my godson dead before his time? Or wasting his years as your host, fighting your battles and suffering your hurts?"

There was a pause this time, and Sirius realized with shock that Nabu was trying to See the answer. He didn't already know.

"… He is not meant to bear the Helmet." Nabu almost sounded remorseful at that. "He could be the most powerful host I have ever had, but his path lies elsewhere. Where, though, I cannot say. There are many choices before him. Destiny has not yet written his story. Train him well, Sirius Black, and train him fast. He will need it."

With that, their conversation was over. Sirius felt Nabu push his mind out of the Helmet, and then he was once again standing on the roof of the Tower, hand on warm, golden metal. He jerked back with a curse.

"Son of a- what sort of answers were those, you stuck up prick?" He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned heavily on his cane. Talking with Nabu was always draining. "Stupid, cryptic…"

When he'd finished muttering to himself, he took a moment and let his thoughts settle in his mind. There was no point railing against the inevitable. Only when he was calm did he step back into the Tower, where he headed straight for the library. A plan was forming in his mind. If he had to train his reckless godson to be a hero, then he was damn well going to do it as best as he could. Anger could come later. For now, he had work to do.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

This mini arc with Faust was actually never a part of my original plan for this story. However, as I was outlining what has now become chapter 7, I realized I had a major problem. Harry had no push to become a hero, and Sirius had no incentive to train him as one. After all, Harry is the kid who constantly thinks he wants a normal life, even though he can't help but be a hero. As for Sirius, while he was hardly a model caretaker in his youth, he's seen enough by now to dissuade him from ever wanting Harry to seek the hero life. The story needed a boost to get Harry started on his path, and thus Felix Faust got invited to the party.

That said, I'm happy with how this turned out. It gave me an opportunity to introduce the Light a little earlier than I initially planned, and let me set up some plot points that won't pay off for a while. Those of you who've read my other story know I like to play the long game, and I certainly have a lengthy plan for this story. Who knows, we might even get YJ season 5 by the time I reach that point. I certainly hope so.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.