Disclaimer: I don't own HP or DC.
AN-1: I have a P*T*R*N, where you can read the NEXT EIGHT CHAPTERS right now if you want.
"Wonder if Snivellus would have liked it here," Harry muttered as he walked through the streets of Gotham, invisible and silent to everyone around him. As his foot entered a shallow puddle on the sidewalk, the magic inlaid into the weaves of his robes changed the perception of everyone around him, a local confundus keeping him unknown. His eyes flicked over the teens in front of him as the smell of weed wafted over to him, Harry rolled his eyes and walked past them.
Yeah, Snape would have loved it here.
As a caretaker in one of the numerous orphanages maybe.
Ignoring the thoughts that followed of a world long gone, Harry looked ahead as he neared the Wayne Tower. The tower rose for a staggering thousand feet in sharp contrast from the rest of the dreary, chipped buildings in the old part of Gotham City, a few of its floors still alive against the backdrop of the foggy night. All in all, it made for a wonderful place to go for a midnight stroll.
Now if only he could ignore the smell of shit, piss and drugs that seemed to assault his nose every inch of the way.
Still, it wasn't as bad as the media portrayed Gotham to be, and he could see the regular police patrols, as well as the food and medicine centers opened by Wayne Foundation. And based on the lack of screams assaulting his ears, crime had really dropped ever since Batman had started breaking bones here and there. Walking forward towards the large skyscraper, Harry mentally checked upon Kara, following the thread of magic that connected her bracelet to his mind. Rolling his eyes as he still found her to be in Metropolis, the wizard sighed and looked up at the filtering moonlight.
At least someone was enjoying their night.
With Diana returning back to Themyscira to inform Hippolyta about the previous day's events, he had been left with a lot of free time. With Kara also spending the day with Kal-El, he had decided to get onto work with Bruce's findings in the City of Night. As it was, he couldn't really get back to his truck after what Faust and he had done to Las Vegas. Absentmindedly creating a dragon out of the moisture in the air to play with, Harry stopped in front of the Wayne tower and focused his eyes, shifting to the X-ray spectrum that pierced through the stone and concrete of the flooring easily.
As vision pierced through the levels of the basement and research labs,Harry hummed as he saw the bat-shaped knives Batman was known to use. Apparating past the barriers into the lab, he whistled at the array of knick-knacks scattered about the lab. His invisibility hiding him from every type of sensor Wayne had stocked up the place with, Harry strolled through the shelves and desks, his eyes roving over the armor pieces and the gadgets strewn about the place.
"Sure seems like a lively place down here," he muttered, picking up a sonic wave emitter, his eyes breaking it down component by component in his brain as he felt someone enter the lab. "How much does Bruce Wayne squirrel away from the Wayne Corp to fuel his nightlife?"
"Solely from his own personal fortune, and that accumulated by the Waynes before him," the voice of Lucius Fox, CEO and President of Wayne Enterprises greeted him, and Harry chuckled as he faded into view, removing the invisibility upon him. "And may I know why is the Savoiur of Las Vegas standing in the basement of Wayne Tower?"
"Your boss didn't tell you I'll be stopping by?"
"No," the man wryly replied, even as Harry felt and heard his heart speed up, "I can't say Mr. Wayne said anything of the sort."
"That's no problem," Harry shook his head and turned around, keeping the emitter down and waving a hand towards the ceiling. "Just tell me where I can find him in this dank labyrinth he calls a city, or better yet, show me the location—I will drop by directly."
"No need for that," the measured, growling voice of Batman came from behind them, and Harry turned around to see a projection of the cowl-wearing face form on the wall. "Just come to the top of Wayne Tower, I will be there in a minute—and I hope you don't plan to create giant burning snakes in my city."
"I say the place could use some heat and light," Harry chuckled and rose into the air, and a snort escaped Lucius as the older man turned around. Watching the scowl on Batman's face deepen. "And I hope you don't mind a few extra vegetables after I am done with this…I don't really have a disposition for restraint that you seem to possess."
'-ere comes the violence, BANG BANG BAN-" The song on the speakers dissolved away into static as Harry slammed a man into it from the side. Leaving the groaning man in the crumpled equipment, he kicked out with his left leg, controlling his strength with extreme focus so as to not reduce everyone around him to mist and chunks of meat.
Behind him, the Bat of Gotham grunted as he punched the last of the guys in the jaw, sending the man packing into a heap of boxes. Continuing to hum the song that had just been playing around him, Harry caught a baseball bat coming for his face and wrenched it from the boy's grip. Wrinkling his nose at the smell of beer that hit his nose, he slammed the bat on the head of the teenager. "Off to dreamland with you," he muttered, stepping over the unconscious boy and looking at the two remaining men, "Now…you recognize the Bat, and you just saw me punt twenty thugs into sleep. Step away if you don't wanna get chewed up too, I've touched enough filth as it is for the day."
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be now?" The taller of the two goons demanded, and Harry idly counted the number of shivers that the man underwent in a single second as he continued forwards, "The Bat freak's new sidekick or some-"
"You talk too much," Batman's growl echoed in the silence that ensued as he dropped from above the two henchmen, his hands slamming down on their heads and sending them crashing to the ground. "Come on. There is a container here with those weapons, and we might find something that leads to a larger cache or base."
"You really need to get back to that cat lady," Harry sighed and entered the open warehouse, snapping a finger to create a dozen floating balls of light beneath the ceiling, illuminating the various boxes and cartons strewn about the place. "I hear that whenever you were running around with her you broke fewer bones and sounded less of an asshole."
"Shut up."
"For fuck's sake, get laid already," Harry shot back and crossed his arms, pointing at the box kept behind the small truck. "Anyways, a lead-lined box is behind that truck. I'd say that is one you are looking for."
"Good, meanwhile, use some of your abilities and try to find something useful for us to investigate," the caped vigilante responded and moved behind the vehicle, a single grunt coming from him before the sound of wood splintering filled the warehouse for a moment, "There is nothing here. The container was emptied beforehand."
"And that is where I come in," Harry muttered, walking through the truck and peering down at the foam and paper that lined the empty box, all levity gone from his voice, "Step back for a moment, I'd rather not fry your tech if I can avoid it."
Increasing his vision till he could see even a speck of dust clearly, Harry looked at the inside of the container, spotting the stains and fissures that were present. Humming for a moment, he grinned as he got what he was looking for, his eyes stopping on one of the corners as he stepped back. A single hair strand floated out, surrounded by a nimbus of white as Harry closed his fingers around it, and closed his eyes for a moment. Using a variant of the tracking spell he had used to find Kara right before Metallo's attack, he traced the hair strand back to its owner.
An image of a nightclub appeared in his head, situated right by the Gotham Harbor, before the view changed and he saw a tall, well-built man smoking a joint standing by one of the girls outside it. "Got him," he muttered, snapping his fingers as he teleported both himself and Batman to the roof of the bar. "There, that is your man who knows more about those containers and weapons."
"I know him," the caped man muttered, getting down to his knee and peering at the smoking man. "Handled him a few months ago for distributing drugs in a couple of my orphanages. Also found him with a couple of automatic weapons and a warehouse full of cocaine…Stay away. I will deal with this on my own."
"Mr. Luthor, is it safe to say that you have pushed Wayne Industries completely out of Las Vegas by taking up the rebuilding and rehabilitation work in the aftermath of the disastrous events that took place here?!"
"Mr. Luthor! Your announcement came scant seconds after the fight between the unknown man and the Phantom ended—in the light of this, is it safe to say you knew something like this was going to happen?!"
"Mr. Luthor, what do you think about Superman saving your oil rig in the Pacific just this morning!"
"I think," the addressed man responded, pausing upon the reported who had asked the last question as he flashed his usual charming smile, "that it is a wonderful thing that Superman decides to save lives instead of the way that man in Las Vegas opted to use his powers. But with the emergence of so many 'super powered individuals' I think we need som-"
"No mention for me in your address, Mr. Luthor?"
Gasps rang out throughout the gathered people as everyone looked up at the amused voice, their eyes widening as Phantom walked upon the very air as if coming down a flight of stairs. "I was just passing by when I heard you speak of the incident in Las Vegas," two pale hands rose up to the mysterious man's hood, and every camera swiveled in his direction as the crowd seemed to stop breathing, "and you really forgot to mention the star of the show."
Cameras flashed and whispers spread through the people as the Phantom's face was revealed to all. For a moment, all was silent as the lips of the controversial superhero curled up into a smirk, and then the screaming started. Questions and exclamations of awe were shouted in equal measure, and Lex grit his teeth at the knowing glint in the superhero's eyes. The man had done this for no other reason than to steal his thunder, and prevent him from further speaking about the Las Vegas disaster.
"Are you allied with Lex Luthor by any chance?" A man standing right in front of him asked, and Lex's eyes snapped to the man, his mouth barely able to control the profanities that wanted to slip through. But as difficult as it was, he managed, staying silent with a smile on his face as Mercy took a step closer to him, both of them just a step behind Phantom as the cloaked man hummed.
"Whatever would you give you that impression?" The superhero asked, snapping his fingers once. Gasps rang out everywhere and even he stumbled back in shock as a large, decorative chair formed out of the air behind the man. "That I saved Las Vegas and Metropolis, two cities where he has the biggest presence, which has only expanded in the wake of his relief and rebuilding operations?"
Still in shock over the sudden appearance of the chair, the reporter took a moment to respond as the Phantom sat down upon his creation, lounging with his face tilting against his fist even as he seemed to loom over them all. Discreetly, Lex tapped his thigh twice, knowing the phone in his pocket had already sent out the signal to the LVPD to arrive at the scene with the SWAT. A moment later though, the whispers once again started, words like 'magic' and 'wizard' being thrown around as the reporter seemed to find his voice back. "Both of them actually," the spectacled man nodded, cocking his head in the direction of the ruined city behind him, "Moreover, this is the first time you have taken the time to appear in front of the public like this, without your cloak in the way. Usually, you just disappear after dealing with whatever nuisance you find, and even then, you haven't ever done any 'superhero' thing like Superman and the Flash do…any reasons for that?"
"Not everyday you turn a meetup with Lex Luthor into a personal press conference for someone like me, do you?" The man laughed, and some of the audience laughed with him nervously as he relaxed further into his seat, "But anyways, since I am in such a good mood, I will answer any three questions—none shall be about my na-"
"Who was the man that attacked Las Vegas, and why?" A blond-haired reporter asked, raising the mic towards the seated man. A small smirk was thrown by her as she seemed to look at the Phantom appreciatively, "I am sure that he certainly wasn't looking for lost chips or a misled marriage with you."
"No," the Phantom chuckled, and Lex perked up a little as he heard the sounds of sirens—now either the Phantom will get lost like the others always did in the face of police intervention, or he will use his powers to keep the show going, and either way, it was his benefit. The reporters all looked a little unsure as they too realized that the police was coming, but before they could even begin to do anything, the Phantom continued, "His name was Felix Faust, and you would know him by his more famous name, like the article by Daily Planet's ground zero report said, The Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death. His reasons for attacking Las Vegas were simple; he knew there was a powerful weapon here, one that had the capability of defeating pretty much anyone he wanted. Of course, before finding the weapon, he decided to check for anyone who could stop him, and so he tried to burn away the whole city. I decided to stop him, to prevent the destruction of Las Vegas, and to keep his hands away from the technology that he wanted. That is all there is to it."
"While we saw that this…Faust didn't pull any punches in causing destruction to the city," another one began, raising his voice to be head over the clamoring of others as he pushed past the horde. "Wa-excuse me you bloody pest—your own methods of fighting destroyed much of Las Vegas, and I am sure that you were also directly responsible for many of the deaths and damage dealt to the city!"
"Maybe I was, Maybe I wasn't," he shrugged back casually as the police cars and SWAT vans screeched to a stop right outside the hospital's entrance. His words caused a load of murmurs and whispers, and questions once again began to get shouted across the dozens of reporters. Behind them, he saw the police and SWAT come into view, and his eyes widened as they seemed to freeze in place, unseen and unheard by everyone. His attention was grabbed by Phantom as the man leaned forwards and tapped his finger on his chair's arm, "But I sure stopped Faust before Las Vegas was lost to the desert, and prevented him from getting a weapon that would make Hiroshima look like a mildly powerful firecracker."
"Are you more powerful than Superman?" A fairly timid voice spoke up, amongst the shouts of reporters calling Phantom a menace and questioning his methods and Lex perked up at the question—wanting to know that himself ever since he had seen the Phantom fight against the aliens. While he knew that Superman had enough power to cave in a city with his single punch, the abilities Phantom had shown so far were also nothing to scoff at. Fire so hot that it melted everything in moments, and strength and speed were enough to outclass humans in every way. Combining that with teleportation and probably a few other unseen abilities, Phantom was no less dangerous than Superman in his book—probably even more, since the man had just admitted that he had killed civilians while fighting the Felix character.
"More powerful than Superman?" The Phantom repeated slowly, and in the screen showing the live telecast just a few feet away, Lex saw how a smile slowly spread across the black-haired man's face, his brown eyes seeming to glow with crimson light as he leaned back, "Maybe I am, maybe I am not. But that is not what everyone should focus on…the correct question would be, am I more dangerous than him? And to those who want the secret of the stars, know that I am more dangerous than Superman could ever be. Just ask Wardboy what I mean when you see him, and also, do bring something better than a shock stick when you come for me."
"What do you mean the Phantom is live?!" Perry's shout echoed on the whole floor, Clark winced as his more sensitive hearing was assaulted by the large man's shouts. However, his eyes snapped to the screen affixed to the ceiling all the same as he realised what his boss had said. Shouts filled the whole room as chairs scraped along the floor and people rushed to see the front of the hospital that until now was nothing more than a visit from Lex Luthor to the injured.
Frowning slightly, he pushed his chair back and walked along with the others, smiling a bit at Lois before both of them turned towards the television, everyone falling silent as the Phantom lowered his hood for the first time since he ever appeared. And for Clark, the next two minutes passed in complete silence, even as he heard the clamour at the Phantom's callous words about the loss of life in Las Vegas, and how he was more dangerous than his alter ego.
Because the face that stared out at the world so arrogantly, smirking and reveling as it challenged the faceless enemies it was speaking to—the brown eyes that held a familiar malice, the ebony hair that fell softly to his ears, and the angular face that seemed to forever be stuck in an expression of superiority.
It wasn't the face of the man he knew to be Kara's older brother.
"Fucking hell," Alfred heard the voice of his young, foolish charge as he turned around, the whine of Batwing's engine dying echoing in the cave as the cockpit opened up. The cup of coffee in his hands was placed back on the table as he slowly stood up, absently shutting off the computer as he made his way down the stairs, his eyes on the man Bruce was dragging out of the cockpit with him.
"I assume that is the Wardboy the Phantom spoke off, Master Bruce?"
"Wardboy?!" The cape-wearing vigilante growled back, jumping down on the stone ground, grunting as he slid the man off his shoulders onto the stairs—and none too gently, Alfred noted. Bruce removed the cowl on his head, and he winced at the bruise he saw on the temple. However, his eyes flicked ot the man next as Bruce continued. "This here is a member of something known as the Intergang, that is all the Phantom told me after spending a full fucking minute staring into his eyes. And then the man disappeared into thin air, leaving behind this bag of bones in my lap!"
"And why did you bring him here of all places?" The older man asked, frowning as he leaned down to inspect the guest, only to wrinkle his nose at the smell of piss and weed that clung to the man, "Why not drop him off at the GCPD?"
"Because the man is dying," Bruce snapped and kneeled down, pulling the man's eyelids back to expose the rolled-back eyes. "Phantom somehow did something to his brain, and now he is nothing more than a vegetable. His brain waves are lowering, and his heart rate is already like he is in a coma. I wasn't going to leave him with GCPD, not when I knew they couldn't save him. And I also need to know what the Phantom found in his brain to rush off so quickly."
"Did something to his brain?" Alfred mumbled back in shock, remembering the time when Scarecrow had once run rampant in Gotham, before his eyes snapped back to the comatose man at his feet, "Is this what he meant when he said he was going to leave vegetables behind?!"