Welcome to the next chapter of YJM. Thanks to everyone who left reviews last time; the response was far greater than I'd expected. While I don't typically respond to reviews in ANs, I want to take the chance to clear a couple things up that multiple people asked about.

First, as I've said before, I don't write harems. No exceptions. While Young Justice does an admirable job of being inclusive when it comes to gender and sexuality, and I intend to respect that, Harry himself will only have one romantic partner at a time.

Second, several of you questioned the choice of M'gann in the pairing. Zatanna was the most common person suggested as an alternative. When I first conceived of this story, Zatanna actually was my initial choice for the pairing. It seems obvious, after all, when looking for a YJ pairing for Harry Potter. However, as I began to outline the story, it didn't work. They didn't have much chemistry, Zatanna's story arc doesn't mesh well with Harry's, and there was no good way to get around the initial age gap. I don't want to age Zatanna up, as her season 1 story arc works best when she's younger, but I also wanted Harry to come to the YJ universe at the end of OoTP. Two years isn't much of a gap for adults, but at their age, Harry is unlikely to see her in a romantic light.

M'gann, on the other hand, has none of these issues. Though the age gap is technically larger, she is the emotional equivalent of a 16 year old in season 1. Her arcs work well with Harry, as characters they have good chemistry without losing the potential for well realized drama. Additionally, their power sets are different enough for them to complement each other rather than one overshadowing the other.

Also, well done to all of you who caught the reference in the last chapter to John Constantine being Sirius' descendant. It will be a while, but we'll be seeing a lot more of the Laughing Magician.

As ever, please give whatever support you can afford to the people of Ukraine. Their war is far from over.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Chapter 4

Jul 18, 2009, 17:42

Location: Unknown

In a dark room, hidden from the world to the fullest extent of its occupant's considerable abilities, a semicircle of seven screens provided the only illumination for the sole person within. Each screen displayed the outline of a figure in hazy white light, absent any identifying details beyond silhouette. There were no names to go with the figures, only numbers on each screen. It didn't matter, though. The man in the room knew each and every one of their identities. Some, he knew, harbored illusions of secrecy, foolish delusions that they could remain anonymous from him. It was amusing, in a way, like watching a child try to protest it hadn't just eaten that cookie all over its face. Ultimately, it didn't matter. No matter how deep they cloaked themselves in shadows, soon, very soon, he would drag them into the light.

"What news?" He asked. A man's smooth, cultured voice, with a hint of an accent, answered.

"My spies have followed up on the mystic disturbance near the Tower of Fate. Information is difficult to obtain, but reports suggest Sirius Black has taken on another student."

"A potential heir to the Helmet?" This voice was American, and also male. The man in the room frowned. A new Doctor Fate at this juncture would be inconvenient. One personally trained by Sirius Black would be disastrous.

"Unclear," the first said. "Black is as watchful as ever, and the Tower's defenses make observation… difficult. We know the student is a boy not out of his teens. There have been no matches on facial recognition or fingerprint analysis. He has at least some talent for the mystic arts, though. One of my operatives observed him using a form of teleportation; one Black has also been known to favor."

"Oooh, we should destroy them both, and that ugly Tower, too." A new voice, also male, but young and energetic. It sounded like a cruel teenager given too much power, but the man in the room knew the truth. He knew what lurked behind that facade. "I say we attack. Blow them both up, then put 'em back together and do it again!"

Several of the people murmured vague agreement with the sentiment, at least, if not the exact plan. The man in the room pursed his lips, though, and shook his head. "I think not. Too overt an attack risks Black donning the Helmet once more. That would be a disaster. Our position is not yet so secure that we can afford to draw the attention of Doctor Fate and his fellow heroes."

"Ahh, but many of us, we have zis attention already, non?" This voice was strangely modulated, and had a heavy French accent.

"As individuals, yes," the man in the room answered. "But action such as this would indicate a larger conspiracy. Our assets are not yet in place to give us the advantage we will need to act more openly."

"I agree, we cannot act with such aggression," the American man said. "However, there are other, less overt options. Given what the various psychics and mystics I employ said about the initial event back in June, doing nothing seems every bit as risky as blundering in."

"You have a suggestion?" The man in the room asked. He had several potential plans himself, but it was always best to get multiple perspectives. Unity of vision was good, but not to the point it caused inflexibility.

"Sirius Black has made many enemies over the years. Any number of them might conceivably hear of his newest student and take the opportunity for revenge or advantage. Such a conflict would be instructive to any observing."

There was a long pause, and then a new voice spoke. A woman's this time; it was both regal and seductive. It flowed into the ear like warm honey, yet carried with it an authority many generals would have envied. "I may have such an individual within reach. He certainly has plausible reasons for seeking such conflict, yet he would not present so great a threat as Sirius would take up the Helmet once more. It may take some weeks, but I believe word could reach him of this latest development with his old enemy. If that isn't enough to prompt him to act, I could provide further… inducements."

It took the man in the room a moment to recall who she was referring to. For any of them, "within reach" could refer to a significant portion of the world's populace. However, given what they were talking about and where her sphere of influence was located, the name came to him in short order. He smirked a little at her talk of "inducements". They wouldn't be needed, though the man in question would likely feign stubbornness if he knew what they entailed.

"Yes, that could work. Make sure there is no link between the two of you before he acts and inform us when he leaves for America. We will observe what occurs and revise our plans as need be. Nothing will be allowed to stop the Light."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

For Harry Potter, the next few weeks were a strange mixture of invigorating and exhausting. Sirius made good on his promise to work him hard. Lessons on everything from magic to languages to math to history filled his days. Muggle textbooks crowded his desk, while the echoes of spells rang in his head from hours of repeated practice, and the scent of potions lingered in his nose. He had not been thrilled to learn Sirius expected him to continue learning potion craft, but the man had been adamant. At the very least, he was a better teacher than Snape had ever been.

Catching up on his muggle schooling took most of the time. He'd been a good student at his old primary school, but that had been years ago. There were literal libraries of information he had to learn to get to where Sirius thought he ought to be. Not only that, but he also had to deal with literal gods and aliens being a thing in this world. It had taken an entire afternoon just to wrap his head around that one. He still wasn't sure he believed Superman was from another planet. The man looked exactly like a human. What were the odds? At least the Martian Manhunter looked like he could be from Mars.

The entire concept of the Justice League baffled and amazed him. It was as if the Order of the Phoenix had the support of the Ministry, but on a global scale. At first, he couldn't understand why superheroes were such a common thing, let alone why they had felt the need to band together. As he watched the news and read more about this world's history, though, it made sense. Even leaving the magical side of things alone, this world faced threats like nothing his own had ever imagined. Alien invasions, immortal warlords, criminal masterminds with giant robots, and more. It was utterly insane, and yet something about it gripped him. Often in the past, and never more than in the last year, he'd seen the results of people in power turning a blind eye to the problems around them. Whether that was teachers or the Ministry, he'd seen the suffering it caused. These heroes, this Justice League, weren't like that. Crazy though half of them probably were, they were protecting people from threats they could never face on their own, and Harry could only read about it in awe. Quietly, he began following the League's exploits even as he slogged through the latest round of trigonometry problems Sirius had assigned him.

It was on the fourth day he realized why Sirius was driving him so hard. Why, he barely gave him any time to sit and think without thrusting another book into his hands or dragging him to the roof to practice magic. He was trying to keep him too busy to think about what he'd lost.

It didn't work perfectly, of course. Every day brought fresh and often painful reminders of the people and places he'd likely never see again. On his second morning in the Tower, as he was eating breakfast, it suddenly struck him that Hedwig would never again flutter down in the morning to extort bacon from him. The realization drove him to his knees and wiped out his appetite for the rest of the day. Another time, he caught himself waiting to answer Sirius' question, not wanting to deny Hermione the opportunity to impart knowledge. That shock had left him weeping. There were more, but each time the black hand of despair threatened to catch him in its grasp, Sirius was there, cracking jokes, barking orders, and dispensing wisdom like some demented cross between himself, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dumbledore. No, it didn't always work, but Sirius never stopped trying, and that meant more to him than he could ever express. When he realized what his godfather was doing, and why, he wordlessly wrapped him in a tight hug. Neither said anything. Nothing needed to be said. It was enough that they were both there.

Of course, not every day was consumed by lessons and study. Sirius was as much a fun loving rogue as he'd ever been, and many an evening and weekend saw him working mightily to fill in the gaps in Harry's pop culture knowledge. Harry had never seen a movie with family before and, as he watched the Millennium Falcon swoop away from an exploding Death Star while shoveling popcorn into his face, he thought this one memory could fuel a Patronus big enough to hold off every Dementor in Azkaban. As grueling as the lessons were, it was moments like this, leaning up against Sirius on a worn old couch, that made them worth it.

The lessons themselves were quite different from what he was used to. He practiced spells, of course, getting used to the differences between magic here and magic as he was used to it. It made for several highly entertaining (for Sirius) mishaps, including accidentally imbedding a dozen buttons three inches into solid stone with what should have been a basic banishing charm. However, woven throughout those practice sessions was lecture after lecture on the nature of magic itself. It was a topic he'd never really heard discussed at Hogwarts. In each of those lectures, and often outside of them, he emphasized the need to respect the powers they wielded.

"Magic is wonderful," he said. "Truly wonderful. There's nothing in the world like it, nothing even close. But all that wonder and all that beauty can just as easily turn to horror and vileness. There's no Ministry here to keep wizards in check. No Azkaban to threaten us with, no Aurors to police us, not even formal schools to guide our education. It's up to each of us to hold ourselves accountable to what is right. To respect the power we were born with. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, struck dumb by the fierce light in his godfather's eyes. He'd never seen him so passionate, not even when he'd been trying to kill Wormtail. It reminded him of the look Dumbledore had when he'd stopped Umbridge from manhandling Marietta Edgecombe. It was the light of absolute, unbending belief in what he was saying.

"Good," Sirius said. "Just remember, no matter what I or anyone else teaches you about magic, that is the most important lesson you can learn."

The most important lesson it may have been, but as far as Harry was concerned, it was also the easiest by far. Sirius hadn't been joking when he'd said magic was different in this new world. The first time Harry tried to levitate a plate, he sent it hurtling upward fast enough to leave a crater in the ceiling. A simple Lumos nearly blinded him. He could feel the power, right where it had always been, but it was rawer, less tamed. It made him feel like a fumbling first-year again. Humiliating, considering he'd just taken his OWLs a few days earlier. The vast majority of his time learning magic was consequently spent regaining control of his power. What had once come as naturally as breathing was difficult for the first time in years. It took endless repetition, endless fine tuning of technique, to make progress.

"Aargh, bloody hell!" He swore as his latest attempt at a basic summoning charm sent the button he was practicing with zooming wildly around the room until it slapped against his left ear. It had been a week since he'd first arrived. A week of overpowered spells, random mishaps, and endless frustration. "Why won't it fucking work?"

"You could always try it wandlessly again," Sirius suggested. Harry just glared at him. If his control was questionable with his wand, it was utter shite without it. He didn't need the button exploding, or turning into a mutated spider. Again.

"Just a suggestion," Sirius said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Honestly, though, don't be so hard on yourself. Magic is harder in this world. More dangerous. It took me years to get control after I came here. You're already improving, and it's only been a week."

Harry scoffed and massages his throbbing ear. "Improving? It doesn't feel like it."

"Well, you are. This time the button actually came towards you, and it stayed under the speed of sound. I'd call that an improvement. Now try again. Focus on how you want the button to move, not just on the movement itself. See it, and make it real."

Harry closed his eyes and did as he said. When he thought he had it visualized as clearly as he could, he raised his wand and reached for his magic.

"Accio button."

Fwip!

"Ouch!" He shook his hand. A welt was already forming where the button had slammed into it.

"That was better. It didn't even bounce once that time."

"Oh, sod off."

Much to his mixed delight and chagrin, Sirius turned out to be right. Every day, it got easier and easier to control his spells. Within a month of arriving, he was almost as good as he'd ever been. Maybe better, given all the extra practice. Sirius had a way of explaining the basics that made more sense than anything he'd learned in Hogwarts. Theory had always been Hermione's forte, and while he doubted he would ever hold a candle to her brilliance, he was beginning to grasp some of the finer points she'd always rambled on about. It was fascinating, though it came with the bitter sting of knowing he'd likely never be able to talk with her about his newfound appreciation for academia.

And it was a genuine appreciation, if perhaps not quite the obsession she'd always had. 100 years as Doctor Fate had apparently turned Sirius into quite the scholar, and he seemed determined to pass the love of knowledge on to his godson. As he said, "Magic is all about knowing. Ignorance is a trap." No spell would he let Harry cast, but that he could explain the theory behind it at a moment's notice. It made for slow progress, but after a few weeks, even he could admit the benefits of actually understanding how his spells worked.

To his surprise, once Sirius had declared his control back to O.W.L. levels, the first new thing he started him on was Occlumency. Just the word was still enough to send a shove down the back of Harry's neck. His memories of Snape's "lessons" were as vivid and unpleasant as ever. When he voiced his objections, though, Sirius was as adamant as ever.

"I know you had a bad time of it under Snivellus," he said. "His methods were… barbaric, I think is the best way to put it, and counterproductive. But don't go thinking it's not a dead useful skill, or that you're hopeless at it. With that bit of Voldemort in your scar, you never had a chance to build up your defenses. Trust me, if you want to learn more advanced magic, the properly cool stuff, you'll need Occlumency."

In the end, it was the tempting promise of advanced magic that convinced him. He'd seen some of what Sirius could do, and heard about quite a bit more. Even the few glimpses he'd gotten of truly high-level spellcraft had been stunning, though. There was something beautiful about watching reality form around someone's will, about seeing the amazing things magic could do when you really understood it. It was the same sense of wonder he'd got walking through the halls of Hogwarts for the first time, or casting his first Patronus. The sense that anything, truly anything, was possible. For the first time since he was eleven, he felt he could learn magic purely for its own sake, without the looming threat of a Dark Lord after his blood.

So he endured lessons on Occlumency and a dozen other things besides. Progress was slower than it had been, as he was no longer just retreading well-worn ground, but all the more rewarding for it. Sirius turned out to be quite the teacher, and Harry took no small delight in teasing his godfather about having become a respectable academic in his old age. Sirius took an equal delight in turning his hair as green as his eyes whenever he teased him and refusing to turn it back. Harry had to figure out the counterspell on his own, and no two were ever the same.

Harry wasn't sure what having a family was supposed to feel like. He'd never had one in his memory, at least not for any length of time. Those few weeks spent at the Weasley's over the years were the closest, but even that had been marred by the knowledge that, eventually, he'd have to leave. Now, though, there was no time limit. He wasn't visiting. The Dursleys were a whole universe away, and good riddance to them. Harry hadn't ever experienced a proper family before, but if this is what it was like, he could definitely get used to it. Naturally, it was just two months after he arrived that everything changed, again.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

August 28, 2009, 16:12

Churchill, Maine

The day started fairly normally. He'd spent the morning studying Latin and Greek, and most of the afternoon practicing how to sense magic around him. As such, he had two railroad spikes lodged behind his eyes, with hammers pounding them in time with his pulse. Worse, he'd have Occlumency practice in the evening after dinner, but for now, Sirius had given him a few hours off and permission to go into the nearby town to do as he wished. Churchill wasn't exactly Hogsmeade, but it certainly beat spending all day every day in the Tower.

With a loud crack, he Apparated into a secluded stand of trees a few hundred yards out of town, and immediately checked to make sure everything had made the trip. Sirius had dedicated an entire two weeks to teaching him how to Apparate, claiming it was faster than most any other form of magical transport. Fast it may have been, but Harry still couldn't wait until Sirius taught him how to make portals. Apparition was damnably uncomfortable, and he still got the shivers whenever he remembered splinching himself the first few times. Sirius had reattached his nose in a second, but Harry still always checked to make sure it hadn't tried to wander off again every time he Apparated.

Once he'd determined none of his body parts had gotten lost, he set off for the actual town. Churchill was fairly small, with fewer than 8000 residents. He waved to some of the people who recognized him on the street, exchanging greetings and such. Most of the town knew Sirius as an eccentric millionaire who preferred to live away from civilization and Harry as his grandson recently come from England. Some friend of Sirius who he wouldn't say anything about had apparently procured all the right papers. The look of dramatic horror when Sirius had seen himself listed as grandfather had been enough to fuel a dozen Patronuses.

Some of the other teenagers his age called out to him, inviting him to this basketball game or that party. He smiled and gave various excuses. He was too busy studying; he had to catch up on schoolwork to be ready for next year; his grandfather needed his help, maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe later. Later, later, later. Always "maybe later".

'Yeah, right,' he told himself. He'd tried getting to know some of the locals, at Sirius' insistence. There was nothing wrong with them. The guys were mostly friendly and curious about his life in England. The girls whispered to each other and giggled, and gave him the sort of smiles that tied his tongue more neatly than any jinx. In another time, he thought he could have made friends with plenty of them. Every time he tried, though, all he could think about was Ron and Hermione. Their absence was a constant weight on his thoughts. It poisoned him with guilt. Guilt for leaving them behind, and guilt for even thinking of making friends to replace them. It was a stupid thing to feel guilty about, he knew, but knowing didn't change anything. Sirius has assured him it would get better eventually, but eventually hadn't come yet. So, for now, it was a smile and "maybe later".

As he walked, he felt his jeans flapping a little higher up the ankle than usual. With a sigh, he made a mental note to get some new clothes before he headed back to the tower. He'd hit a major growth spurt, and this would be the second time he'd outgrown his clothes this summer. Sirius had muttered something just the other day about him winding up taller even than Lupin. He didn't mind the height, even though he hadn't truly been short since Third Year, but constantly needing new clothes was a little irritating.

Before he could decide what he wanted to do with his free time, something… touched him. It felt rotten, like a wave of hot, oily slime gliding over his skin. A putrid taste filled his mouth and nose, as if he'd bitten into rotting fruit covered in dung. He shivered and gagged, fighting the urge to claw at his tongue. He wanted to take a thousand scalding hot showers, to scrub every inch of himself, anything to get rid of even the memory of that awful feeling. As quickly as it came, though, it was gone. For a moment, he just stood there, pale and drenched in cold sweat. Then he heard the first scream.

It was a woman, her voice shrill with terror. He whirled towards the direction it had come from, an alleyway between two shops, but hesitated. What was he supposed to do? Rush in? Call for the police? Sirius had been very clear on using magic in public. Namely, don't do it unless there was no other choice. He didn't even know what was-

Another scream tore the air. This one ended abruptly, as though cut off, and that made the decision for him. He took off at a dead sprint, stumbling and almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the alley. Nothing good could be at the other end of a scream like that, and no one else was doing anything. It felt like hours passed as he ran, though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Distantly, he noticed his wand in his hand, though he couldn't remember drawing it. It was strange, carrying it in public. He'd rarely ever even touched it outside of Hogwarts. Now he was holding it in full view of at least twenty people, all muggles. His thoughts continued to drift in strange directions until he reached the alley. What he saw there drove all thought from his head.

There were two women in the alley. One was crumpled on the ground, unmoving. At first glance, Harry thought she was wearing some sort of gaudy belt around her middle, a rubbery red and purple number. Another look told him the truth. That wasn't a belt. Those were-

'Oh fuck,' he thought as he forced his eyes away from the splayed intestines. 'Oh fuck, of fuck, oh fuck.'

The other woman was still alive, thankfully, but she wasn't alone. A… thing held her by the throat and hefted her without obvious effort.

It was tall, the thing, as tall as Hagrid, but emaciated. Loose flaps of wrinkled brown-red skin hung limply from stick thin limbs and flapped in the breeze like flags. Its swollen stomach swung from a gaunt frame like an empty sack. The thing's knees bent the wrong way, like a bird's. Its hands had too many fingers, each clawed and razor sharp. One hand, the one clutching the woman's throat, still dripped blood and viscera from the woman it had disemboweled. He couldn't see its face, but a long, putrid, grey tongue slithered over the woman's cheek. She recoiled and beat at the thing's arm with her fists, but she may as well have been punching a statue.

"Relashio!" He heard someone yell. To his surprise, it was him. While most of him had been howling in terror at the horror show in the alley, some other part, the part that had fought a basilisk and faced down Voldemort, had raised his wand and set about doing something useful. There was a flash of pale yellow light, a sharp snap, and the thing's hand spasmed open and jerked away from the woman. She crumpled to the ground and scrambled away from the monster. A howl filled the alley, a high, whistling noise filled with fury and surprise. The thing wheeled to face Harry, giving him his first look at its face. He'd just as soon it stayed put.

Horns rose from where eye sockets should have been. A long, vertical slit opened from crown to chin, and he realized it was a mouth. Sharp, needle thin teeth filled that void, and that same grey tongue lashed out, tasting the air. There was no nose, no hair, not even eyes, but he knew it was looking at him. He knew it hated him. Him and everything else. There wasn't a single speck of creation this foul creature didn't loathe with every fiber of its being. Not one corner of the universe it wouldn't tear to shreds and burn to cinders if it could, and it would hate the ashes just as much.

"Run!" He tried to shout. It came out as more of a hoarse yelp, but it did the trick. With far more sense than he was currently displaying, the surviving woman half-ran, half-crawled out of the alley. The thing made a move to snatch at her as she fled, but Harry reacted to the movement on pure instinct. He sent a silent Stunner right into the monster's face. It barely flinched, but it was enough for the woman to escape. It was only when she was gone that he realized he was alone with a terrifying creature that had just shrugged off a spell that would have laid out a gorilla. The creature realized it as well and roared again. Harry's legs turned to water, and he stumbled back. It was all he could do to keep a hold of his wand, but he clung to it like a drowning man to a log. The creature took a step towards him.

"Impedimenta."

It was the first spell to come to mind, and even as he cast it, he cursed himself for a fool. This thing had taken a stunner to the face without even a stumble. An Impediment Jinx wasn't about to stop it. Stop the thing it did not, but the jinx put a hitch in its stride, just enough to give him another moment. Distantly, he wished Sirius had had a chance to teach him some more powerful magic. As if in answer to a silent plea, the thought of Sirius brought one of his lessons back to mind.

"If you're ever facing dark magic and aren't sure what to do, use fire. Fire is the great cleanser. It can dissipate all sorts of foulness. In the face of the unknown, fire is your greatest ally."

Fire. He could do that, he thought. When he looked, though, his jinx had already failed, and the monster was rushing towards him. He stumbled back, raising his wand. It felt as though his arm was submerged in concrete. With a tremendous effort, he raced those needle teeth as they aimed for his throat. The creature was 20 feet away. 15. 10. Close. Too close. He dug deep for every bit of power he could summon on such short notice.

"Confringo!"

A lash of fiery orange light slammed into the thing's open mouth, and then the world turned into a storm of searing noise and heat. The creature vanished in a blinding flash. Heat like an open oven cooked Harry's face and the blast of air sent him sprawling. By sheer luck, he avoided cracking his head on the ground. He didn't even get the wind knocked out of him. For long seconds, the searing torrent continued, and the creature screeched long and high. It sounded like fingernails scraping a blackboard, but amplified a thousandfold. He clutched at his ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was no use. The agonized howl continued for a solid ten seconds before it petered off into a death rattle.

When he dared open his eyes, the fire was out. Spots still floated in his vision, though, and his ears rang. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision as he sat up, coughing. The creature was gone. There weren't even bits left to show it had ever been there. Where it had stood there was now a scorch mark the size of a truck. The walls of the alley were blackened and cracked, and a patch of asphalt in the center of the sooty ground had melted. As he looked, bits of charred brick pattered to the ground. He studiously avoided looking at the dead woman. That was a sight he didn't need to see again. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear car alarms wailing in the distance. There was yelling, too, and the pounding of people running his way.

'No good,' he thought. Whoever came upon him would have questions, and he didn't have answers. Without even checking to make sure he was unseen, he focused on the Tower, gathered the necessary power, and turned on the spot. The alleyway vanished. Iron bands squeezed his lungs. Howling wind tried to rip off his skin. For an instant that lasted forever, he couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then it was over, and he was in the same clearing where he'd first landed on this Earth.

The Tower wasn't visible, of course. It was impossible to Apparate into the Tower, and Sirius had yet to teach him other ways of magical travel. However, he had taught him how to summon the Tower when he needed to. With hardly a break in his stride, he reached out and grabbed for a doorknob that wasn't there. As he did, he reached out with his mind, found the mystic "switch" in the wards, and flipped it. The Tower shimmered into existence and his hand closed on the doorknob. He pushed it open and stumbled into the entrance hall.

"Sirius!" He shouted, only for the man to appear in a flash of golden light before the word was even done. "In town- there was-"

"I know," he said curtly. His eyes were hard and angry, but not at Harry. "I sensed it from here."

"What- what was it?"

"A trap."

"What?" Harry gave his godfather a questioning look. He grimaced and turned to face him fully.

"The creature was an imp. A type of minor demon. Very minor. The one who summoned it intended it as a distraction and it worked." He bit back a curse and looked around at something Harry couldn't see. "They put a tracking spell on you. It let them follow you here, to the Tower."

Harry gaped and unconsciously rubbed his arms as if to rid himself of the spell. "Who- Sirius, what's going on?"

"Later, Harry. I think I know who, and I have to go deal with him." Sirius turned that fierce gaze on him, and Harry had to hold back a flinch. "You stay here. Don't leave the Tower. If I fall, the Tower will send you and the Helmet somewhere safe. You can trust the people there, but it won't come to that. I'll be back once I kick this stupid punk in the bollocks." Then, before Harry could get a word out, Sirius clapped his hands together and vanished in yet another golden flash.

"Dammit," Harry swore. He let out a few more choice oaths and punched the wall for good measure.

"Aargh! Dammit," he swore again. He still had no answers, and now his hand hurt. Annoyingly, the wall didn't seem to have noticed his blow, while his knuckles had noticed quite a lot. He massaged the throbbing appendage and stalked off into the Tower.

Navigating the labyrinthine structure was getting easier every day, but it was still far from straightforward. Sirius could get where he was going without even thinking, but Harry had to focus hard, lest he wind up in the kitchens. Or the library. Or a frozen tundra. If the Tower wasn't infinite, it was the next best thing, and getting lost took on a whole new meaning when a wrong turn could leave you in the middle of an active volcano.

He made it to the stairs easily enough, but from there it got more complicated. It was easy to get distracted in the stairs, and focus was essential for navigating the tangled mess. He made several wrong turns, one of which nearly sent him into a pit so deep he couldn't see the bottom. Eventually, though, he found his goal. The bell.

He still didn't know why the bell led to the roof, but right now, he didn't care. He tapped it once, fixing the roof in his mind as Sirius had taught him. The bell glowed, and with a deep breath, he walked into it. Once on the roof, he ran to the edge to catch a glimpse of Sirius fighting whoever had summoned the imp.

'He'll be fine,' he told himself. 'He's fought way worse than whoever this is. He didn't take the Helmet. He didn't even take any of the weapons. This guy can't be that powerful if he didn't take anything with him.'

Sirius would be just fine. He told himself that, over and over, but it didn't stop the knot of worry in his stomach. He couldn't lose his godfather. He just couldn't. Not after everything else. Not after he'd finally gotten a family.

Lightning flashed in the late afternoon sky, drawing him from his thoughts. The crack of thunder made him jump. He moved to get a better look and gasped at what he saw.

Two figures, one glowing gold, the other a dark purple, stood in midair. They were too far away to make out clearly, but the golden one had to be Sirius. The surrounding forest was flattened for a hundred yards in every direction. Here and there, purple fires still burned the shattered stumps of trees. Deep grooves marred the ground, and strange crystalline spikes, both real and not, like glass made of dreams, jutted up from the landscape. As he watched, a dozen beams of greasy looking light shot from the purple figure and converged on the gold figure in wide arcs. Sirius didn't make any move to dodge.

"No!" Harry shouted. His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth would crack. Just as the beams were about to land, though, a deep gong rang. It shook even the Tower, and Harry's bones reverberated with the sound. The ugly-looking beams shattered into countless shards like spun glass. The shards hung in the air for a moment before they shot back towards the purple figure. Flashes of light surrounded the figure, obscuring it from view, but Harry let out his breath.

"He will be alright," he said aloud. The words sounded more confident than they had in his head. Another flash of light from the corner of his eye drew his attention away from the fight. Reluctantly, he turned towards the new disturbance. In the distance, on the other side of the Tower from Sirius, he could see a column of black smoke rising above the red glow of a fire. Sparks of light, red and purple and green, lit the smoke from within. For a few seconds, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. When it came to him, his heart skipped a beat.

'Churchill,' he thought. 'The town's under attack.' In his head, he could see the carnage just a few of those imps like the one he'd faced earlier could wreak. If this mystery sorcerer had summoned one, he could summon more. The people of Churchill wouldn't have a chance against even a few of those things. He doubted guns would do more than annoy them. The cloud of smoke told the story all on its own.

He glanced back at Sirius, where he was still fighting the purple figure, and cursed. Sirius was still locked in battle with whoever was attacking them. He probably hadn't even noticed the town burning, and there was no way to get his attention. By the time he finished, the town could be wiped out.

"Shite," he swore. Sirius' warning to stay in the Tower lingered in his mind, but he couldn't just sit and do nothing. The townspeople didn't deserve to face those monsters. Unbidden, the image of the woman lying limp, her entrails ripped from her stomach, came to mind. That would be all the people in Churchill if he didn't do something.

He opened the door back to the stairs and rushed to the living area as fast as he could. Once he was out of the stairs, he drew his wand. His mouth was dry as sandpaper, and he had to force his voice out.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak."

With a whoosh of displaced air, the Cloak soared around a corner and into his outstretched arms. He swung it around his shoulders, grateful for the changes Death had made to his (her?) Cloak. It now fit like any other cloak, fastening around the neck and draping down to the ground. It remained visible, though; a shimmering gray that was hard to focus on, but visible. Only when he raised the hood did it once again live up to its name, and Sirius said it could hide him from every detection spell he knew. To cap it off, though he'd grown over three inches since arriving, the Cloak fit just as well as it ever had.

As he fastened the Cloak, he could feel his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. Cold sweat trickled down the side of his neck, and his hands were shaking so badly he almost couldn't manage the clasp. He'd done a lot of crazy things in his life, but most of them hadn't exactly been his choice. There was a big difference between floundering his way through lethal danger and leaping headlong into it with eyes wide open. For a moment, he wondered if he should try to find the armory. Almost immediately, though, he dismissed the thought. He didn't know how to get into the armory, nor how to use any of the weapons inside. He didn't even know what all they were. Sirius had only told him they were, to a one, too dangerous to use.

'With my luck, I'd probably end up making things worse. Better stick to what I know.'

He took the elevator down to the entrance hall and cursed every second wasted as the floor indicator crept downwards. Finally, after about a century, the doors slid open with a ding. They weren't even halfway open before Harry forced his way between them and took off at a sprint towards the front door. The second he was beyond the Tower's wards, he flipped up his hood and Disapparated. In the timeless moment before he arrived, he girded himself for whatever was waiting for him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Thus begins the next arc, and Harry's training. I won't spend too much time on the training itself; I prefer to show power creep in action, but I figured little bit of a training montage wouldn't go amiss. You also get your first look at the Light and their plans. Magic often gets short shrift in DC, and I wanted to emphasize that isn't the case in this timeline. Sirius has been here over a century, and his impact cannot be underestimated.

Let me know what you think of how I handled the action scene. I wanted to make it clear that Harry has some experience, but he isn't truly a trained warrior yet. He's still just a kid who's been through a lot. Also, let me know who you think the Light got to attack the Tower.

Have a good day and I'll see you next time.