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Disclaimer: I not own Harry Potter or Young Justice
Sirens belted through the night air, loud echoes that left your ears ringing, always ringing. A haunting sound that lived in the hearts of her citizens, as shadows flickered and the night revealed the stain if her core. The lights of towering buildings seemed dim under the cloak of thick fog that rolled in from across that looming bridge, the water below still…dead. Above the sky rumbled and lightning, thunder’s ever present companion teased at the edges of grey clouds. This was the night, so cold your lips turned blue and your breath misted over, this was Gotham, where everything she touched changed, yet in the same breath didn’t.
Bruce frowned as he swiftly weaved through muck filled alleys and narrow walk ways, the stench of grime and rotten food staining the back of his throat for every leap of distance he made. His skin under his disguise was slick with sweat, his muscles aching for how hard he must push them if he ever hoped to capture his target. The sound of light footsteps was enough for him to increase his pace, leap over the gaping hole that served as the border between the Crane gang and Montague Musketeers. Street gangs that fancied themselves advanced in the hierarchy that represented the Mobs of Gotham. They were merely grunts, harmless to those like himself, a threat to unsuspecting civilians.
A shadow swiftly vanished around the corner, if he were not on the hunt he would have missed it. He cursed himself for his uncharacteristic distraction, his target gaining the distance they would need to easily elude his grasp. The sound of smooth jazz and blues whispered in his ear as he threw the club doors open, startling the poor man who had been quietly emptying the bin of backroom.
“You can’t be back here!” The man shouted, terror gripping him like vice for his outburst at the realization that this intruder was Batman. The Batman, and he had dared to give said man, beast…whatever he was, an order! His knees grew weak as he slumped against the wall, wiping the sweat from his brows, his worry was for naught. Batman hadn’t even spared him a look, vanishing in the poorly lit kitchen as if he were nothing but a ghost.
Rats scurried along the walls of the kitchen, questioning squeaks as they searched for leftover food, scurrying away in fright as the man shifted against the wall. His eyes flickered to the nearby clock, he could hardly make out the time, even worse when dim lights flickered. 12: 35 am… his shift wouldn’t be over just yet, he still had hours to go on the graveyard shift, but already, the freakiness of early morning showed its face.
What was Batman doing in a rundown place like this? Better yet, who was he chasing? After all, no one else had come this way…except that one time when the kitchen doors squeaked open, the bright light of a full moon creeping along the floor, a sudden cold wind turning over the bins and the door? The door slammed shut on its own.
Finally, his target would have nowhere to go. He had made the mistake of hiding out in the rundown jazz club that was hardly noticeable to those who would look. A hive for petty criminals and now and again the local mob boss. Even now the stench of cheap cigars lingered on the walls, and that smooth jazz still played…as if the club still payed tribute to its patrons.
He slowly opened the doors, his steps too light to truly be heard, only given away by the creak of old wood beneath him. The room was pitch black…almost pitch black, for, in the corner where curtains fluttered, the face of the full moon peered through the single window.
“I know you’re here. It’s no use hiding…Black Shade.” Bruce frowned, eyes narrowed as a shadow flickered in the corner, only to go still once more. Perhaps he had been too hasty with his words, this wasn’t a mistake. Black Shade didn’t so easily allow himself to be cornered in a place he could seemingly not escape. The light of the full moon proving to see him prisoner, or perhaps he had made himself prisoner, but for what sake? If he had been willing to talk, why would he run? Yet he had, and in the same breath made himself captive to the call of the moon, easily cornered by his not so much enemy but neither friend.
It was…complicated.
“Shade. We need to talk.” Bruce frowned, voice deep with carefully concealed annoyance and frustration. He and the League had been hunting this man for months without avail. They only had hours left, and if this man did not listen to him, accept his…
Terrible things could happen…
“We need to talk?” If he were any other he would have been startled by the whispery voice, almost like a thousand sirens sang, blessed with the voices of serpents. Nothing had changed…not over the years at least. Shade sounded the same…sounded just like this night they…
“Harry!” Bruce glared having enough of this game, time was upon them. This had to be done now, he wouldn’t allow their only chance to so easily—
“You dare!” Harry almost hissed, shadows parting like a curtain as he slowly emerged, carefully avoiding the rays of moonlight that reached out, curious to touch his pale skin. Bruce would not admit it, but in the moment the man finally revealed himself, he froze. He was wrong to say the man hadn’t changed…for he had, at least slightly. His skin was still pale, but it glowed like the light of the full moon he would never allow to touch his skin. His hair was much longer, still raven black with no order that barely brushed his shoulders. Where he had been painfully skinny, he had filled out, a seducing silhouette emphasized by every calculated step he took. High cheekbones, full dusky lips and thick eyelashes…what hadn’t changed were those eyes. Consuming jade, sweet poison that lured you in a trap. That shun with so much anger and hurt…so much pleasure and joy.
Those same eyes that had stared him down, dared him to disobey.
“Why did you come, Man of Bat?” Harry frowned, finger trailing across the dusty arm chair he had stood behind, hardly a wince when a ray of the full moon caught his arm, a soft hiss as it burned his skin.
Bruce frowned at the action, stepping forward as if to prevent Harry from subjecting himself to more pain. The action only brought him an unamused glare, the man obviously aware of his intentions. He was off his game tonight, the League would have been suspicious. Perhaps they would have debated his pursuit of the man this night, if they knew of…
“I know you feel it. You have no choice—”
“You don’t own my freedom!” Harry hissed, the furniture creaking ominously as they shifted by some invisible force. Bruce could feel how his hair stood on end, how suddenly colder the room seemed, and the strangely fading light. Even with the moon so bright in the sky.
“You are not this cruel! Even if you would fool everyone around you to think you a fiend!” Bruce shouted, stepping forward as if to take the man into his arms and shake some sense into him.
“Slept with me one time, and you think you know me!” Harry hissed, green eyes glowing, fierce, even as he stepped into the moonlight and his skin began to burn.
“That has nothing to do with this!” This loss of composure, the raw anger and obvious show of emotion even through his cowl, it would have shocked the Justice League. Slowly Harry’s glare faded, his expression more neutral than ever as he finally stepped out of the light, the burns upon his skin quickly receding as the mark of the Deathly Hallows glowed green upon his forehead. Vanishing in a second as if it were a figment of their imagination. They both knew otherwise. Harry, for he had lived to understand his plight in, life. Bruce…because he had been given the rare gift to take a look into the life of a man many called the Black Shade.
A name so given, for that one year, December 24, Christmas eve. An entire community dropped dead at his appearance, he stood at the center of what would be dubbed the silent massacre, a strange symbol spinning under his feet. He had been classed high risk. He was wanted by the Justice League, and should have been taken into custody so they could understand his connection to the deaths of so many innocents. He had eluded their grasp, all their grasp except one.
Harry stared at the man that stood before him, towering. His presence could never be ignored, something he hated…for it was just like him that Ginny’s presence could never be ignored. Oh he had loved her…still loved her.
“Perhaps.” Harry whispered, turning away from the man as he slowly retreated to the comforting shadows of the night.
“Harry.” Bruce began again, he had to make this work. What lay in wait for them should he not secure the man’s help would be devastating to the world as they knew it.
“Why should I help them? What have they ever done for me?” His voice was equal parts soft, equal parts emotionless. It would be a challenge to truly grasp what the wizard felt, that is if he felt at all.
“Because there are still innocents in this world. If there is one thing Harry Potter stands for, then it is for the life of the innocent.” Bruce spoke with conviction. The league thought this man a criminal, and perhaps it wasn’t hard to believe. After all, he had been present at so many events that saw people fall to the lure of death. Harry stood among it all…like the ever watching Shepard.
The League didn’t have all the facts, and even if he knew the truth, a truth that would release Harry from their suspicious gaze…the truth was not his to share.
“What Harry Potter stands for? I fought for the ones I loved, I fought for my survival, not---
“Then do it for magic! She still lives. Is she not the same entity that exist, even if your people are…?” Bruce stopped, that argument could go either way. A point proven as green eyes pinned him in place, dared him to speak more on a topic for which he did not know the history. As much as Harry had let him know, he wasn’t privy to every stark detail.
Outside the city proved very much alive, the light of passing cars flickering across their skin, creating an eerie abstract art for how still they stood. The night air was chilling, tainted with the stench of rotten refuse and the grime from the streets.
“I don’t trust the face of a man I cannot see.” Harry had moved to stand before Bruce, hand hovering over the cowl, but refusing to do much else. So close, he could smell the scent unique to Bruce. The very same scent that had surrounded him that night, stirring something deep within him that he would rather see buried. Only Ginny, should have raised such emotions within him. He had been disgusted, even knowing that what happened was no fault of theirs. Poison Ivy loved to play, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They both had. How odd the strange bond that had formed between them, they weren’t friends, but neither were they enemies.
“It is a face that you have seen before.” Bruce’ voice was low, even as he stepped closer. He could almost fool himself to believe that he could feel the heat from Harry’s body seeping into his own. That he could smell the fresh scent of snow and wild lilies. It was unsettling, the odd feeling that weighed upon his chest, how aware he was of the little distance between them. Aware that if he should step just a fraction further, he could kiss soft lips that had left its mark so many years ago.
Bruce slowly removed his cowl, not a finch when cold fingers slid along his cheeks, trailing his thin lips. Resting there as green eyes stared into his brown.
Harry didn’t realize that he had pressed himself against the man, or that strong arms had circled his waist. Didn’t realize the feeling of a strong heart beat beating against his own chest, or the warmth that had seeped into his body. Didn’t realize as he stared into brown eyes.
“I will help you, Bruce Wayne. If only for the joy I will see in brown eyes.” Harry whispered, pulling away as he lost himself in the darkness once more. Leaving Bruce the sole occupant of run down room, oddly cold in the wizard’s presence. The man frowned at the man’s words…for some reason, he didn’t think Harry had referred to him. He erased the thought form his mind as his eyes flickered to the full moon where a deep brick red began to seep into its edges.
This day was the day of the lunar eclipse…all would rest on Harry’s ability to help them. The Young Team was sure of this, they had researched as much as they could, fought down their superiors to prove their point. No one had believed them except himself, for wasn’t Harry Potter a criminal? They had no choice when Dr Fate’s condition deteriorated, Klarion the witch boy gleeful for the turn of events.
The world as we know is held in balance. It thrives upon order, for everything that exist has its place and has its time. Where there is light, there is darkness, where there is order there is chaos. Where there is fate, there is fortuity and where there is life, there is death. An endless cycle that never stops spinning. A cycle kept in check by the champions chosen by supreme beings to do their bidding. Be they willing or not. Should a champion fall, with no means to replace them, so will their realm of power. So will their part of the cycle and the world as we know it is left spiraling. Ever spiraling, for where there is a beginning, there is an end.
“We have no choice, we have to trust that Harry Potter will help us, that there is some good in his heart that he would—” Superman began softly, obvious concern written across his face as he watched the moon from the watchtower. The lunar eclipse was almost complete. Already there was word across the world of cataclysmic earthquakes and floods. Volcanic eruptions and the developing hurricanes that spread across the seas, threatening to rage through lands.
“We are talking about the same Harry Potter who over the years have been on sight for every mass death of people across the world? That same Harry Potter right?” Green Arrow scoffed, obvious skepticism in his tone as he folded his arms, eyes trained on Dr. Fate who lay bedridden. The being did not look well, raw magic pulsing from the man like a heartbeat, making the air heavy and hard to breathe. They had given up administering medical help, what they had could not cure this illness. Whatever curse Klarion had placed upon the being, it was effective… Dr Fate may very well draw his last breath this day.
“We don’t know what his connection is with these deaths, Green Arrow. It will do us no good to jump to conclusions.” Wonder Woman glared, voice filled with power and conviction. She would not play the fool, even if some of her comrades would. Harry Potter was no criminal, she knew that, Superman knew that…Batman knew that. There was something much bigger than them at work, and even if Batman himself was skeptical of what she and so many others thought, he would be wrong to believe that they saw Harry Potter as a danger to the innocent.
“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard the story a million times before. How is this man even going to help, anything human have no lick of a chance fighting against whatever mumbo-jumbo the Witch boy casted.” Green Arrow didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Black Canary glared his way. She wasn’t the only one, Nightwing and his gang were doing the same. Even then, he could see the conflict in their eyes, they themselves did not know if the Black Shade was truly trustworthy.
“There is a lot you have yet to learn, Green Arrow… all of you.” Everyone froze at the voice, rushing over to Dr Fate. They imagined if they could see his face it would be contorted in pain for how his voice croaked.
“Dr Fate!” Superman rushed to the beings side, he had hoped for some improvement if since he was talking. Looking down, he knew that was just wishful thinking.
“What did you mean? You said we had—” Green Arrow began with a frown, eyes flickering to the moon that was almost completely eclipsed, a sign clearly felt by everyone as a shadow cast itself upon them. Out of space was always dark, but this was something else entirely.
“It is as I said. You know little of who Harry Potter is, why the things that happen occur around him happen…why he seems so cold and cruel whenever you do meet him.” Dr Fate croaked, barely shifting in the bed.
“Seem cold and cruel? It seems that I am in fact slipping for you to speak so kindly of me, Dr Fate.” The League swiftly turned around to see both Batman and the Black Shade emerging from the shadows.
“You came!” M’gaan grinned, excitedly bounding forward, forgetting herself for a moment when she almost pulled Harry into a hug. She had been the driving force to get Harry to help. The others had been more reluctant even if they had understood her point.
“M’gaan was it? It must be you…she seems to like you very much. You didn’t have to do—” Harry began, only to be cut off by the excited woman.
“No, No! I was happy to help, especially since you saved my li—” M’gaan didn’t finish, quickly cutting herself off when she realized she had the attention of the entire Justice League. Blushing she quickly stepped away, even more embarrassed when Harry simply smirked.
“Nabu, it seems fate has caught up with you. Oh, the irony.” Harry paid the League no mind, even with their suspicious gaze. He quietly took a seat beside the being, staring down at his prone form.
“And you my friend have become bitter.” Everyone could feel the sudden shift in the air, what had felt almost friendly became frigid, Harry’s eyes shadowed as he clenched his fist.
“I became bitter when I watched my children die, ravaged by sickness and so much pain. I became bitter when I watched my wife die, blood staining her lips, her body withered to a sick parody. I became bitter, when my world died and I the only one still alive, the deathly hallows my burden, forever to be shunned by the light of a full moon.. And for what…because the muggles were afraid?” Harry’s voice was a dangerous hiss, many around him making to step forward should he prove a threat like they thought.
“Project Wicca. It was—that’s why—” Nightwing began in astonishment, everyone except Bruce Diana and Clark looking his way for clarification. They were confused by the turn of the events. Obviously aware they were missing a big part of the picture.
“Project Wicca?” Green Arrow questioned softly, unwilling to set off the man that seemed to be lost in internal rage, the sound hissing snakes loud to his ear, yet he couldn’t see them.
“It was…the World Counsel. There was the discovery of hidden worlds separate from what we already know. Wizarding worlds, they’re hard to find but…wizards they were deemed a threat to the population after the incident when a rogue Wizard dare wage war against non-magicals.” Nightwing began, only to trail off when Harry released a sigh, eyes trained on the now full eclipse.
“The act of one must be punished by many. Wizarding Britain as a whole payed recompense for his crimes. Innocents killed, ravaged by an engineered disease. My world is no more, and now I am haunted by their ghost for surviving.” Harry muttered, a bitter smile upon his lips before he gently took Dr Fate’s hand.
“Is that why you killed all those innocent people?! Revenge?!” Green Arrow started angrily only to freeze when Dr Fate pinned him place with a fierce glare.
“I killed no one.” Harry said simply, not caring if they would understand. No… Bruce understood he realized, the man coming to stand behind him, a hand on his shoulder. The League of course were taken aback by the action, unsure what to make of it.
“You are Death’s champion as I am Fate’s. Chosen for her until the day you yourself is taken from the world. Mortal life…so fleeting. You do her bidding, truly a shade of death for when their time comes, you cover them with it.” At Dr Fate’s trembling voice, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows shun bright upon his forehead, a startling green. The League stepped back in shock, a new clarity dawning upon them. Harry Potter was one of them, he was like Dr Fate and Klarion. Champions of a higher entity, they followed no order but those from the supreme beings.
“And with my help I will return balance. My mistress will see this world destroyed to be born anew one day, though I may never live for so long, fleeting as our lives are. Chaos has rolled its dice, but today is not the day for the cycle to be disturbed.” Harry whispered. Without another word he kissed, Dr Fates fingers, listening as the binds of the curse Klarion cast were broken. A wave of energy passed through the room, knocking over everything in sight. If the League had not hold on to steady themselves, they too would have found themselves upon the floor.
In the distance, both the champions could hear Klarion’s scream of rage. Chaos was foiled once more, order had returned.
“Is it over? Has the balance returned to—” M’gaan began, voicing the question that was on all their lips. Harry said nothing at first, silently watching as Dr Fate fought the need of a healing slumber. He was stubborn, wanting to see for himself that the world was saved. Now that he was in no danger of fading, he would be able to heal himself. The world would not spiral and destroy itself, for the cycle had been restored.
“Thank-you Harry Potter, and your daughter…I dare say I must thank her even more, for it is her eyes that will you aid us.”
Bruce froze at the words, remembering the short moment they had shared in the rundown room. The way Harry had looked into his brown eyes.
Could it be?
Did that night, when they had…
Harry didn’t smile, he simply stood ready to take his leave. He ignored the calls of his name from Superman, and even young M’gaan. He had done his job, he wanted to leave, a plan foiled when Bruce stood silently behind him. They were both out of earshot from the team.
“Daughter.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement veiled with a touch of anger and disbelief.
“Yes, we have a daughter.” Harry simply answered, not turning to face Bruce. He wasn’t afraid, he didn’t feel guilt. It was what it was. They had slept together that night, forced by the lure of chemicals that flowed through their veins. Forcing them to act on something neither of the two had felt for each other. He walked away that night, a child formed in his womb. A child he loved dearly.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?” Bruce sounded betrayed, but what betrayal was there if they were never…perhaps it was the principle of the situation.
Harry turned slightly to stare into brown eyes, the man had pushed down his cowl. There was a want in those eyes, a need and determination…there was also hesitance. Without a word Harry slowly approached the man, a gentle hand placed on Bruce’s cheek.
“She knows her father is a great man. That one day she will meet him, and show him how proud she will make him. You know where to find us Bruce…you just have to think.” Harry smiled softly before stepping away. He didn’t reach fa though, his hand caught in Bruce’s strong grip. The act sent a shock through his body, heart hammering for no apparent reason…he hated it. Hated it for what he felt was almost like a betrayal to Ginny’s memory.
"What is her name?" Bruce whispered, grip tight around Harry's arm.
“Margo…Margo Potter-Wayne. Your mother favoured that name I believe.” Harry finally pulled way, ready to make his departure.
“Lex Luther. He was one of the major backers of the Wicca project, the main one.” Bruce spoke up, pulling his cowl over his head. He watched as green eyes grew fierce, Lex Luthor had a lot to answer to. The determination he saw in the Wizard's eyes, he knew it would never be problem.
“You propose you help me,” Harry smirked lightly, already fading in the shadows.
“He’s a common enemy, besides…you are the mother of my child,” Bruce smirked before leaving, the sound of laughter echoing in his ear.