The fortress of solitude was something that Harry had of course heard of, but never ventured to. North of Metropolis, in an arctic region where there was nothing but ice & snow for miles, stood a giant castle forged from pale crystals.
Once Harry had fully recovered from his battle with Lilith, he made it quite vocal that he wanted time alone to train, which was when Kara had the idea of two weeks in the fortress of solitude.
The schedule was something like this. Wake up at 6, followed by 100,000 laps around the earth, then a break. After the break, they would spar for two hours straight, then came another break, sometimes dinner. This would repeat until nightfall when they slept in the grand chambers within the fortress.
It was a challenge. Kara was older, stronger and faster, with a fluidity in combat he didn't have. Oh, she could also fly. While it wasn't easy, Harry never complained and took it in stride.
For the first time, he knew that he needed to get stronger. Almost nobody could prove a match for him, but there were outliers, outliers like Lilith, Doomsday, or even Clark and Kara.
In his spars with Kara, it became clear that Harry did not know how to fight. He didn't need to before, as he was head and shoulders above almost anyone and could end most fights in moments.
''You're clumsy, telegraphed.'' Kara had said, on their first day. ''When you punch, put your body into it, and keep it short, you don't need to pull that far back. Always keep your chin tucked. When you duck, don't ever look down, always keep your eyes on your opponent.''
When they weren't training, Harry explored the fortress of solitude, which was larger than he expected. Alien tech was locked away in storage rooms that Harry had been forbidden from entering. There were half a dozen spare chambers, heated up by bright flames under mantelplaces. Statues of Jor-El & Lara El, who were Clark's biological parents, stood at the entryway.
Kara told stories of Krypton, a society which was far ahead of Earth, once the most technologically advanced planet in the solar system. When she said that the El's, their family, were one of the ruling nobles, he couldn't help but laugh.
''I know it's a bit different from Earth,'' Kara said with an edge. ''But I don't see how it's funny.''
Harry swallowed his laughter. ''It's just that if you told me that I was nobility when I lived with the Dursleys, I would have called you insane. It's just funny how things are so different now.'' He said. ''Wait, what's your real name then?''
''It's Kara Zor-El.'' She declared proudly.
''So if I was born on Krypton, would I be Harry Zor-El?''
''No.'' She said, ''Back home, the daughter takes her father's name, so I'm Kara Zor-El because my father is Zor-El.''
''I get it.'' He said. ''So what would be my name?''
She let out a curious hum. ''Because you're always causing trouble, Kor-El would suit you.''
''Kor-El?'' He asked, intrigued. ''What does that mean?''
''I don't think there's an exact English translation for it,'' Kara said. ''But it basically means delinquent.''
''Very funny.'' He drawled.
She patted him on the shoulder. ''Come on, break over. We've got 100,000 laps to make.''
The thing which piqued Harry's interest the most was the ship hidden underneath the fortress, through a shutter. It was thirty feet large and looked ancient, and of course, Kara had forbidden him from entering.
''Why do you have a ship?'' Harry asked. He was eating a bar of chocolate that he had gotten from the nearest town, only 300 miles away. ''Kind of useless, when you can fly.''
''Useless when we're under a red sun.'' Kara corrected. ''Sometimes we need to go to places where there isn't a red sun, which is why we have a ship.''
As almost two weeks passed, Harry was quite disappointed. He had gotten used to his training schedule and quite enjoyed it. It was just him and Kara, in the middle of nowhere. Every day, he learned more about Krypton. When Kara spoke of Krypton, there was this light in her eye that he rarely saw.
Because of their conversations, Harry began to ponder something. ''Are there any more of us out there?''
Kara went quiet. ''Why do you want to know?''
''Why wouldn't I want to know?'' He retorted. ''I want to know if there's anyone like us out there.''
She sighed. ''Nobody good.''
He understood. ''So there are?''
''I'll put it this way.'' She said firmly. ''While there are a few other Kryptonions out there, they're all no good, dangerous, and you should hope you meet none of them.''
Harry dropped it there. It did make him wonder though, what were they like?
The last day came, and so did their final sparring session, and when Harry fought his elder cousin, he did it with a fluidity that didn't exist two weeks prior. While he was no expert, his punches were shorter and snappier, his movements smoother.
Kara only just dodged a hook, then returned with a punch of her own, which Harry blocked successfully. ''You're better now.'' She said proudly. ''Only a bit quicker, but you actually know how to throw a decent punch.'' She lunged forward and tackled him to the cold floor. ''But you've still got some room for improvement.'' She stood back up, dusting herself off.
''I'll get you next time,'' Harry said, who was already on his feet.
''Maybe you will,'' Kara said. ''Maybe you will, but I think it's time we head back.''
Harry wanted to ask if they could stay for another week, but knew if they did then he would never want to leave.
Upon Harry's arrival home, it was late morning, so Clark was working at the Daily Planet. Harry's golden retrievers seemed happy by his return, with the way they barked and jumped at him, the moment he stepped through the front door.
It was as he was playing with them, did the telephone began to ring. As it was only him in the house, it was his duty to answer.
''Hi, Mr Kent.'' Laura Lane said over the phone. ''I know I'm being really annoying, but is Henry home yet?''
''Henry is home.'' Harry drawled.
Laura didn't answer immediately. ''Why didn't you tell me that you were going to leave?''
He frowned, ''Why would I?''
''You're such a jerk sometimes.'' She grumbled. ''You were in the hospital, and before I knew it you just vanished for two weeks. I know your dad said you'd just be gone for a little bit, but I was still worried. You almost died.''
Harry pondered what to say. ''My bad.'' He said. ''When my bones healed, I went into the middle of nowhere and trained for a couple of weeks, so nothing like what happened happens again.''
''Oh well,'' Laura murmured, but Harry still got the impression that she wasn't happy with him. ''Do you want to meet up?''
''Sure.'' He said. ''Where?''
''How about my house.'' She suggested.
''Your house?'' He asked.
''Yeah.'' She said, ''I know you haven't been round before….do you know my address?''
He thought back. ''Churchill Street?''
''34 Churchill Street, just by the Walmart.'' She said, ''So?''
''I'll be there in a minute.''
''Great.'' She said, ''I'll see you then….I'm glad you're okay, Henry.'' The phone disconnected.
Laura's house was bigger than his, three stories high with a sprawling garden, where beautiful roses and daffodils were planted into the soil. It did not compare to the fortress of solitude, however.
It was only once Laura opened the door did he consider having to meet with Samuel Lane, but as Harry followed her up the stairs, the man was fortunately nowhere to be seen.
''Is your dad home?'' He asked.
''Mhm.'' She nodded. ''He's out back, he's always out back when he's smoking, that was mom's rule when I was a baby, apparently, anyway.''
This was the first time that Laura had mentioned her mother, and Harry had an inkling that it would be best if he didn't bring her up.
Laura brought him to her room, which was very pink with vanity mirrors and stacks of CDs from Michael Jackson to Madonna. There was a door which led to a small balcony, the blue aluminium tiles gleaming brightly.
They talked casually for a while, without even referring to the elephant in the room, Lilith, but about music, about MJ, about the summer, about what 7th grade might be like, then there was a silence that was only broken when she asked, ''How can you act like nothing's wrong?''
''There's something wrong?'' Harry asked like he had no idea what she was talking about.
''Henry, you almost died!'' She bellowed.
He had his hands in his pockets. ''Oh, that.''
Laura looked stupefied. ''Oh, that?''
''It's honestly not a big deal.'' He told her. ''And I didn't almost die, if she wanted to she could have killed me. I just got a few broken bones.''
Laura ran a hand down her face. ''That's what I mean,'' She whispered. ''You're acting like dying, nearly dying, getting hurt, is no biggie.''
''It's normal.'' He said. ''Normal for me. Also, she didn't want to kill me. If she did, you, me, everyone watching, would be dead.''
She bit her bottom lip anxiously. ''And what if she wanted to kill you? That's why I'm freaking out, what if?''
If this was Clark, then he would have said something along the lines of, ''I would make sure that would never happen,'' in a deep and comforting voice. Kara would be a bit blunter, but would still be nice, in a bit heavier-handed way. Harry, however, just shrugged carelessly and said, ''Then I'd be dead.''
''That's what I don't get,'' Laura said quietly. ''You treat dying….like it means nothing.''
''I can't be sad about dying if I'm dead.'' He said, after some thought.
She raised her voice. ''I know superheroes can die….but I never imagined someone my age, someone I know could live like this. I almost died, and I have nightmares about it every night.''
Harry's pale face softened. ''I'm sorry...we're just different. This is the type of life I live.''
Laura's eyes fell to the carpet. ''How can you live like this, like dying is just normal.'' She looked back up at him. ''What's wrong with you?''
Harry's face hardened, but his voice was cool as ice. ''What you should be asking, is what isn't wrong with me.'' He spun on his heel. ''I think I should go.''
''Wait.'' She called out from behind him. ''I didn't mean it like that!''
''It's fine.'' He said without warmth. ''And you're not even wrong, there is something wrong with me. There's always been something wrong with me.'' He remembered Aunt Petunia's words. ''I'm a bit of a freak.''
''I'm sorry,'' Laura said, and with the way she looked at him, it was probably the truth. ''I didn't mean that. Don't go. I'm sorry.''
If her words reached Harry before he left her room and shut the door, he didn't show it. Right as he descended the staircase, Samuel was entering the house through the backdoor.
The way the older man watched him was just a bit odd. It reminded Harry of a police interrogator ''So this is the boy I've heard so much about.''
''What have you heard?'' He asked carefully.
''Only of what Laura's has told me.'' Samuel stank of smoke. ''Off so soon?''
Harry maintained eye contact ''I've got somewhere to be.''
''I'm sure that you're a busy boy,'' Samuel said, with a nod. ''I'll show you the door.''
Even when Harry had left the house and walked through the Lane's garden, he could still feel a pair of hard eyes drawn on him.
It might have not been the greatest idea, but Harry was hit with an urge that convinced him quickly. He put on a loose jacket, cheap and stained, that he hadn't worn since London, then stormed across the Pacific Ocean.
Even in July, England was cold and windy, the sky an ugly grey, with no stars to light everything up. The first thing he noticed was how quiet everything was. Compared to Metropolis, it almost seemed silent.
As Harry strode down the dark streets of Peckham, he wondered why he had returned. It was no better than before, with homeless littering the streets, injecting god knows what into them, gangs waiting outside of pubs with steel glittering under their waistbands.
Fortunately, they didn't bother him, as he made his way to the pub, Will's Barrow, and entered.
Rap music was on full blast. People lit joints in the back booths, and nobody cared enough to turn and look. The floors were painted in dry blood, like always.
Harry went up to the bar stools and sat at the nearest one to Will, an older man large enough to scare most people off, with hands like a bear. ''I want a glass of coke.'' He said, pulling his hood down enough where his face could be seen.
Will pressed down on the Bartesian and Coke filled a glass. He put the glass on the table and slid it over to him.
''Welcome back,'' Will said.
Harry drew his hood up. ''I didn't think that you'd ever say that. I've always caused trouble here.''
''So did everyone else, but at least you never killed anyone, spilled any blood,'' Will said. There were a few more wrinkles on his face since the last time that Harry had seen him. ''Where'd you go? You vanished one day, leaving no traces. People were saying you were dead.''
''Did you believe them?'' He whispered.
''No,'' Will said easily. ''You're too damn strong to die just like that.''
There was no way that Harry could be honest, without putting his new life at risk. ''Russia. A good place to lay low.''
''Good on you, I know you had beef with a lot of people, not just people from these corners,'' Will said, cleaning an empty glass. ''Staying for long?''
He took a sip of his Coke. ''No. I'll be gone in a couple hours, just visiting.''
''Visiting?'' Will grumbled. ''Kid, you're the only person who visits a place like this. When you leave, you never return. That's how it's worked with everyone else. Nothing good comes from this place.''
''Then why are you still here?'' He challenged.
''Because I've got nowhere else to turn to,'' Will said firmly. ''I've been here since when your parents were in diapers, and when I wasn't, I was in prison. You come here when you've got nothing when you're an outcast, when the world doesn't want you. I'll be here until I die.''
''You don't seem like anyone else here,'' Harry admitted. ''Sure, you used to not like me, but I never thought you were a bad guy.''
Will sighed. ''I was.'' He said. ''It's too late for me now, change doesn't matter when you're as old as me.'' He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. ''My advice would be to leave and never look back, you're full of potential, the strongest damn meta-human I've ever seen. Make something of yourself.''
Harry nodded slowly. ''This will be my only visit.''
''Good, I'll tell you to be careful though,'' Will whispered, looking around as if to check that no one was watching. ''There are new players in town, powerful ones.''
''Who?''
''Nobody you need to worry about, if you'll be gone soon,'' Will said. ''Just keep your eyes peeled, and make sure you bother no one. I know you like to stir things up, but I'd much prefer if you didn't stir things up now.''
''I won't,'' Harry said honestly
Will turned away, to tend to other customers. ''Enjoy your drink, kid.''
A man took his seat on the stool beside Harry. Around 35, blonde and reeking of cigarettes. ''A glass of lager!'' The man seemed to be catching his breath. He readjusted his trench coat.
One lager later, the man wiped his mouth with a sleeve, then turned to Harry. ''A bit young to be in a pub like this, eh?'' His accent was distinctly scouse.
''I'm not that young.'' He said smoothly.
''13?'' The man guessed. ''Maybe 14?''
Even though Harry was not yet 12, he was grateful that he looked a bit older. ''14.''
The man whirled around on his stool. ''Mind if I smoke in here, mate?''
''I don't care what you do,'' Will said, ''As long as you don't cause trouble.''
The man lit a cigarette only when it was in his mouth. ''Kid,'' Smoke clouded his features, ''I don't know why, but when I look at you, I get this sense of deja vu. Have we met?''
Once the smoke died down, Harry knew for sure he had never met, or even seen the man before. ''No.'' He said flatly.
''Maybe I'm losing the plot, bound to happen one day.'' The man said dryly. ''How'd a kid like you end up in a dodgy pub in this part of London?''
Harry's expression was impassive. ''You first.''
''Because I'm a dodgy bastard.'' The man said, after letting out a cold, raspy laugh.
He snorted but refused to let his guard down. ''I guess I'm a dodgy bastard too.''
''Everyone here is.'' The man said. ''If you're in parts like these, and say that you ain't one, that just means you're even dodgier.''
Will scowled. ''Fuck''
The pub fell silent as two tall, broad-shouldered men entered. Their eyes had no pupils and were black with no life in them.
''Sorry about this, mate.'' The man said apologetically.
''They're here because of you.'' Will accused. ''You did something.''
''Who are they?'' Harry interjected.
''Trouble,'' Will said solemnly. ''Big bloody trouble.'' The man added. ''I made a move against their boss.''
''Why would you do that?'' Will hissed. ''Now they're going to kill us all!''
''I get why you're pissed.'' The man said. ''I do, really, but I'll manage it.''
Harry squeezed his fist. Of course, it couldn't turn out to be just a simple visit. ''I'll deal with them.''
The blonde man looked at him like he was stupid. ''Just sit back kid.''
''You sit back.'' Harry shot back.
The two men were now behind them. The first spoke in a flat, emotionless voice. ''Move, and we will kill you. Come with us willingly and you may survive.''
The blonde man glanced at Harry, like sensing what he was going to do. ''Don't do it, kid.''
Dropping from the stool, Harry slammed his fist into the man's jaw, full force, who went flying across the bar and smashed into the walls.
''Christ.'' The blonde man muttered, ''You've got a mean punch.''
It didn't take long for the man to rise from the debris, with only a few bruises and he was heading for them without slowing down.
''You go for that one.'' The man drew a long, wooden stick. ''I'll deal with this one.''
Knowing whoever this blonde man was, he wasn't normal, Harry charged the other man, hit him twice, then took him by the arm, and dragged him into the air before slamming him down hard.
By then the blonde man had dealt with his opponent, who had fallen on his side. He looked like he was asleep.
''What did you do?'' Harry asked, noticing there wasn't a scratch on the man.
''Darrel here was bein' mind controlled.'' The blonde man said when they went into a booth in the pub where no one would hear them. ''I just had to get into his mind to snap him out of it. He's worn out so he's taking a little nap, he'll be fine when he wakes up.''
''Mind controlled by who?'' Harry asked.
''By a demon.'' The blonde man said, dead serious.
''Demon's are real?'' He bellowed, not able to keep the surprise from his voice.
''Yeah, they're real alright.'' The man answered.
''Wait,'' Harry whispered, trying to understand the situation. ''Were those guys demons?''
''They were just the demon's servants,'' The man began to explain. ''Half the town is under its control.''
''So demons are real,'' Harry said, the surprise fading. ''Is hell real too?''
''That's where all of em' come from.'' The man said.
''So what, you're here to stop them?'' He asked.
''That's what I do.'' The man said.
Harry remembered the wand from earlier. ''What are you, a wizard?'' Oddly, the man would only be the second magician he'd met.
''Don't call me that.'' The man muttered. ''Wizards are stuck-up asses. I just happen to use magic.''
''So you are.'' He said.
''Maybe if we use technicalities.'' The man said distastefully. ''What about you, kid, are you a wizard?''
He snorted. ''Do I look like a wizard to you?''
The man shrugged. ''Who knows.'' He said with a glimmer in his blue eyes. ''So, you in? I could do with some extra muscle.''
While Harry pretended to think about it, he had decided the moment he threw the first punch. ''I'm in.''
''Great.'' The man said. ''If we're goin' to be working with each other, we should at least know each other's names.''
Harry went first. ''I'm Harry.''
''John,'' John said. ''John Constantine.''