Death's Knight: Revisited

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction and constitutes no claim on the personalities or ideas incorporated in the Harry Potter series or those of the DC Universe contained within.

A/N: The following AU story is best understood if you are familiar with the mainstream comics of the DC Universe as well as the story of Harry Potter. If you are not a fan of DC or dislike comics, this probably isn't the story for you. Ideas being used come from Green Lantern, Sandman, World's Finest (The New 52 Universe), and the mind of Heather Sinclair. This universe differs greatly from the one you may be used to be it the comics, movies, or animated features. This story begins a year after the inception of the New 52 and merges with the post-Voldemort world of Harry Potter.

This tale is inspired by Heather Sinclair's wonderful Death's Knight Story and is being retold with her permission

Chapter 5 –

Sunday 19 March 2000

"You're leaving in the morning, aren't you?" Hannah asked.

I rolled to my side and propped my head on my arm so that I could see her face. Honesty had always been our policy with each other. "Yes."

"I thought so," she nodded. I was nearly hypnotized by the small bead of sweat slowly descending the left side of her face. Was it too late to suggest that Death might go find another idiot to fight her battles for her?

Probably.

"How long will you be gone?"

"No way of knowing," I sighed. "As I understand it, somewhere between ten and fifteen thousand Black Lanterns are remaining. Unless I'm very lucky and they're all gathered in one place it will take me a while to find them. A year, maybe. Maybe forever."

"I won't be waiting for you when you get back," Hannah interrupted, I guess my surprise showed on my face because she continued, "it's not you, Harry, it's me. I've never been one to tie myself to one man, not even a superhero."

A grin crossed her lips, "This is the longest relationship I've had since Hogwarts, we only lasted this long because you let me know from the start that you would be leaving and because Susan liked you."

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I had no idea why I was surprised, or even why it bothered me so much.

"It's been fun, Harry," she continued rolling over on top of me. My growing funk was successfully distracted by her taking hold of my… the focus of my attention and giving it a bit of encouragement before straddling my hips. "But that doesn't mean we can't say goodbye."

oooOOOooo

I had chosen 11 am as my time to leave the planet. There was no real reason for the time, but somehow, it seemed fitting, as all the profoundly important trips of my life began at 11 am. For a location, I decided to leave the planet of my birth from the place that had the biggest effect on making me into the man I had become.

Unfortunately, Little Whinging did not exist, and neither did #4 or the Dursleys. Well, I didn't know if the Dursleys existed, I hadn't exactly gone looking for them. What was important is that they were not around me. Still, the geographic location of my old 'home' existed, even if it was little more than a quiet wooded area just east of the Guilford golf course. Guilford appeared to be a substantial town with a population of 70-odd thousand, despite not having existed in my original world.

Life was so very odd. Somehow, I had spent far too much time having fun with Hannah and Neville to come to terms with the changes.

Still, the Ring guided me to the exact spot where #4 had stood and constructed a full-sized simulacrum of the house so that I could explore my memories for a moment before having to leave.

The door opened to my touch and upon entering I was presented with a monochrome version of Petunia's sitting room, complete with Vernon's much-used chair. Some part of my mind understood that if I asked the house would be filled with ring-generated doppelgangers of my dear 'family', but that seemed to be more trouble than those people were worth.

The bedrooms on the first floor held no interest for me, my time in Dudley's 2nd bedroom would be summed up in a few cumulative months, and I never had much of an attachment to the place. One last time, there was but a single space in the house that I needed to see.

My fingers trembled when I reached for the door of the cupboard under the stairs.

Everything was just as I remembered it. My surprise at that amused me since it was constructed from my memories, but still…

I knelt at the door for several seconds, noting that there was no way I would fit in the tiny space now. Had I goofed on the dimensions in my memories? Or had I simply grown?

The melancholy of this exercise was getting to me. I sighed and rose to my feet, exiting the house for no good reason before I dismissed the ring-generated construct, leaving behind nothing beyond the leveled area where the construct had existed for less than fifteen minutes.

I looked to the sky and extended my environmental shield before canceling gravity in my general vicinity rising rapidly into the sky.

"Ring," I ordered once I was beyond the planet's atmosphere, "Find me a Black Lantern."

Dozens of stars within my view suddenly had highlighted frames around them, with numbers underneath. Without being told, I understood that the numbers reflected the number of Black Lanterns the star system held.

Always an overachiever my ring.

"Ring, plot an approach to the nearest, best speed."

oooOOOooo

I returned to the Universe 150 miles over a blue-green world my ring told me was called 'Rann' by its civilization.

A civilization of people who appeared to be nearly identical to the humans of Earth, I could barely stand it. First Kryptonians, and now these people. How could people who evolved on entirely different worlds in entirely different conditions be so alike?

It made no sense to me. Sure a lot of the Lanterns I had met on Oa wore the basic form of an Earth Human, one head, two eyes, a mouth, two arms, and two legs, but none of them were Earth Human copies like the Kryptonians and these Rann… Rannians? Rannites? Rannlings?

I spotted both of the Black Lanterns attacking the planet. Their rings ripped swathes through the city far below, vaporizing the population as they did so. I resolved to worry about what the people looked like later and deal with the Lanterns now.

The Ring fed me strategies that involved unhesitating vicious violence. The best idea I'd heard all day.

oooOOOooo

Sunday 13 July 2006

Home, at last.

Most of six years older, hopefully, at least slightly wiser, and more than a little worse for wear. I'd freed the universe of its Black Lantern infestation and distracted Necron long enough that he was in no position to run when Death caught up with him and expressed her displeasure at his theft of a sliver of her power.

That had been nasty. I had made a note to never, ever, annoy my patron.

I landed lightly in front of the house on the Kent Farm. With nothing else waiting for me on Earth, I decided to make checking on Martha Kent my first stop.

The weeks before I had left Earth had been nightmare-free for her, so my careful obliviation of the tortures she suffered at the hands of the Black Lanterns seemed to have worked, but she was a strong-willed woman, there was a very real possibility that her memories had returned.

Before I could take a single step toward the house, the door exploded outward, and an angry Kryptonian flew toward me faster than a speeding bullet. Fortunately, I wasn't the untrained idiot who had faced Kal-l on the day I'd gotten Death's ring. My time exterminating the Black Lanterns had prepared me for this eventuality.

While I hadn't encountered any Kryptonians, I had faced off against a reanimated trio of their cousins from Daxam. My ring accelerated me to the point where I could sidestep his headlong rush toward me, and with a thought I encapsulated Superman in a bubble of red solar radiation, negating his power of flight and speed, allowing him to plow a deep furrow in the yard.

With the loss of his powers, Superman fell back into real-time, so I followed him.

"And what brought this on?" I asked.

"You land uninvited in front of my mother's home and ask why I responded?" Superman snarled as he stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left arm.

"I'm not here uninvited," I pointed out. "Your mother specifically asked me to stop by once I returned to Earth. I don't think you get to overrule her so energetically."

"Clark Joseph Jerome Kent!" Martha Kent shouted as she finally made it through the fractured doorway. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Keep back, Ma," Superman insisted. "He's dangerous."

"Harry?" Martha said once she got a good look at me. "Welcome back. You," she said directing her ire at her son, "get upstairs and get yourself cleaned up."

"Ma!" Superman protested.

"Up. Stairs," the woman ground out through clenched teeth. "After you get cleaned up, you stay in your room and think about what you've done."

The depowered Superman trudged toward the house, muttering threats under his breath.

"Did you do something to his powers?" Martha asked.

"Shut them down for a while," I admitted. "There is something about Kryptonian physiology that has exposure to the light of a red star shut down their powers immediately. He'll be fine in the morning as soon as the sun comes up."

"Normally, I'd be upset about your doing that to my boy," she admitted while wrapping her left arm around my right and started guiding me toward the house. "But the way he destroyed my living room as soon as he noticed you arriving… He deserved it. Have you had dinner?"

"I'm just now back on Earth," I explained while my stomach betrayed me by rumbling at the thought of a meal composed of things that I would recognize as food betraying my desire for a proper Sunday dinner. I pulled the elder wand from my subspace pocket and repaired the damage done to her home.

The woman wrapped her left arm around my right and started guiding me toward the house. "I'll take that rumble as a yes," she laughed. "Come inside, I'll introduce you to Kara."

oooOOOooo

Kara, it turned out was another Kryptonian. Superman's cousin to be exact. She was a perky young girl who appeared to be 15 or so but was older than Superman… at least in her personal timeline. She was sent to Earth as a young adolescent and had been intended to act as a guardian for her infant cousin. Unfortunately, slight variations in her pod's path to Earth, caused by unknown factors had resulted in Kara arriving much later, two years before my return to Earth. She was released from her stasis to find her infant cousin to have become a fully grown man and was struggling to deal with the changes involved with her new life.

In truth, she reminded me of Susan Bones… The girl I knew when I attended Hogwarts, not the woman I knew before I left this Earth. Always smiling, always happy, but with a real sense of loss behind the smile.

Martha had allowed Clark to join us at the table once dinner was served, now dressed in his glasses, a blue tee-shirt, and denim trousers, so I was happily receiving his death glares from across the table while his mother fussed over something on the hob.

"So," Kara said, interrupting the silence that had grown. "You're an alien too?"

"It depends upon how you define 'alien'," I laughed. "I am not from this Earth, but I am from 'an' Earth, one that no longer exists due to the Black Lanterns. I'm completely human, just one with magic."

"Magic?" she asked.

"A friend of mine described it as 'the manipulation of quanta via force of will and stick waving'," I explained with a smile. "Hermione was annoyingly brilliant like that, our friends and I rarely knew what she was talking about."

"I had a friend like that," Kara laughed, "Lurja back on Kryp…" the girl realized what she was saying and lost all traces of humor.

"Kara…" Superman… Clark said, reaching for her hand.

The girl pulled her hand back, mumbling that it was all right.

Again, silence reigned over the table, and I noticed that Martha was starting to get a bit annoyed by it. I decided that it was up to me. Needling the Superman was my best path to at least discussion.

"I've got to ask," I said, "what made you use glasses to hide behind?"

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"It took me all of six minutes to determine who you are based on nothing more than facial recognition," I raised my right hand to display Death's Ring. "Granted that was with what is quite possibly the most powerful computer system in the universe, but any major computer system on Earth would do it in a day. The only reason Lex Luthor doesn't know your mother's phone number is that he didn't think to look for it hard enough."

"What?" Clark and Martha both gasped.

"The glasses aren't going to do it too much longer," I suggested. "I'd arrange an accident for Clark, something to change his face."

"What?" Clark repeated.

"Talk to the Batman," I suggested. "Get him to show you how he disguises himself when he's in uniform. He doesn't show up in facial recognition scans. You should share that with the whole Justice League. Other than Batman, none of you are very well disguised, though getting a good image of the Flash takes some doing."

"Cyborg doesn't have a secret identity," the Kryptonian sighed, "Neither do Diana or Arthur."

"So that leaves you, the Flash, and your Greenie, who I assume from the news reports I caught on my way back into the system isn't the same lad who was angry my ring wasn't green before he decided I was an object of worship due to the date you three intruded on."

"His name is John, and he doesn't bother with a secret identity either," Superman sighed. "He's more proactive than the one you dealt with before was and feels that he needs to be seen for who he is."

"Fine," I shrugged. "You and the Flash, though truth be told, he rarely stands still long enough for anyone to get a look or even a photo of his face, so really, just you. Your disguise worked fine as long as Clark was just some reporter from Smallville Kansas but winning that Pulitzer Prize and the Daily Planet making a big deal of it on the front page kind of made you a public figure in your 'low profile' personae. Talk to the Batman. I don't know if his methods would work for you, but it would give you a place to start."

oooOOOooo

It was well after dark before I left the Kent farm. I had spent most of an hour making sure Martha was still free of the nightmares before excusing myself, grinning at Clark, and saying my goodnights, before flying away.

Kara had gone to bed before I had started to check on the memory modifications I'd done for Martha. When I noticed someone hovering midair directly over the farm, I immediately called upon my ring's construct armor. I had depowered Superman, after all, I couldn't very well leave him undefended.

Well, I could, but I wouldn't. Martha would have been upset with me. That woman has scary mother powers.

Then I recognized the flier and allowed the construct armor to fade away.

"Kara?" I asked, "I thought you had gone to bed."

"Oh, hello," she said vacantly. "I just said that. I don't need to sleep much, I just hover here and look toward Rao." She pointed at a section of the sky. "It's all out there. If I concentrate, I can see Krypton,as it was, a few months before Krypton's core fracture, sometimes I can see individual people,but I've learned not to do that. I can see too much."

"You dwell on it," I said, searching for the words that might console her, even a little bit. "I know what it's like to lose your world. My world is gone, no, worse than gone, it never was. Versions of my friends live here, but they aren't who they were, and they don't know me because James Potter and Lily Evans never had a kid here."

I had to pause. My gaze moved in the general direction of England. I was so used to the thought that my parents were dead, that I had never actually looked to see if there was a James or Lily here. I should probably investigate that. "You should talk to Clark, if anyone would understand, it would be him."

"Kal doesn't understand," she protested. "He tries to honor Krypton, but he doesn't remember it at all. He didn't lose friends, he didn't lose family he knew, he doesn't even remember Uncle Jor and Aunt Lara"

"You should still talk to him," I insisted. "I make fun of him, but really, he's a person who cares. Come on."

I led the young Kryptonian to the ground, drew the Elder Wand, and conjured a pair of chairs for us.

"How did you do that?" she demanded, running her hand over the fabric of the upholstery. "This is real. It's not a construct."

"I told you," I laughed, "Magic. These are duplicates of the chairs in my School Headmaster's office. I got to know them well, I was in his office quite a lot."

"They call them the Principal, here," she sighed. "And I know her office as well. It seems that I make a lot of mistakes with these powers I never asked for."

"Mistakes," I laughed, "you have no idea the kind of mistakes I made when I was hunting Black Lanterns."

"Like what?" Kara asked.

"My biggest mistake was trying to attack a planet populated by thousands of Black Lanterns. They were trying to build a Central Power Battery so they could start creating black rings again."

"Kal told me about the Black Lanterns and what they did to Uncle Jon and Aunt Martha," she said.

"My ring is substantially stronger than the rings the Black Lanterns used, and I had been laying waste to every horde of Lanterns I'd come across. This caused a bit of overconfidence on my part."

"What did you do?"

"I just barreled right in, not even attempting to hide. They spotted me and mobbed me with more of them than I could fight," I sighed at the memory. "When I make mistakes, I make big ones. The Black Lanterns quite literally tore me to pieces."

"How bad?" she asked.

"They would have been hard-pressed to do much more damage," I admitted. "By the time I managed to concentrate hard enough to perform an FTL transfer, all that was left of me was my left arm and shoulder, my neck, and my head."

"How are you still alive?" she asked in a shocked tone.

"Power Rings," I said raising my left hand to display mine, "are awesome." I didn't explain that I didn't have permission to die. No sense in traumatizing the girl.

oooOOOooo

Monday 14 July 2006

John Stewart wheeled to face me as soon as I landed, his right wrist braced by his left hand and his ring glowing almost too brightly to look at.

"Oh," he said lowering his arm, his ring's glow reducing to normal, "it's you. Back on Earth, I see."

"Last night," I confirmed. "I ran into Superman as soon as I got back, and he took exception to my existence, so I thought I'd reach out to the rest of the League to see if we were going to have problems. Your predecessor had a real problem with me before the Guardians and I had words."

Stewart raised an eyebrow, "You fought Superman? You don't appear to be injured."

"Funny thing about Kryptonians," I grinned, "expose them to a bit of solar radiation in the red spectrum, and it shuts down their powers pretty much instantly. A Superman can put up quite a fight, even against someone with a Power Ring, an average man, not so much."

"He's a major part of the League," Stewart pointed out. "How long will he be out?"

"He should be up to full power by noon, Kansas time," I explained. "The way he soaks up solar energy is amazing. So, do we need to have a stupidly pointless fight?"

"Your actions clearing out hives of Black Lanterns have made news all across the galaxy," he noted. "You did good work, and I, for one, have no problem with you. I don't care for the colors you wear, but I can deal with it."

"You don't like my uniform?" I asked with a grin. "That hurts. If it helps, I had as much choice in my color scheme as you did in yours. We both got them from our patrons."

"Jordan told me that you think you work for Death incarnate," Stewart grinned in return.

"And you think the people you work for are the Guardians of the Universe," I pointed out. "Which is more unlikely? Especially when you consider I terrified your Guardians?"

"What are your intentions now that you're back?" Stewart asked ignoring my snark.

"I doubt I'll be as proactive as those of you in the League," I admitted, "but I've never been one to allow bullies to have free reign. As needed, I keep my hand in. If you need me, just call."

Stewart thought for a moment before nodding his understanding. "If you don't have anywhere to be, I'd like to hear what you did to take out the Central Battery the Black Lanterns were building. Every Green Lantern who went that way was lost to us, and I was part of the task force heading out to deal with it when we heard that you had finished them off all by yourself. All we found was a massive asteroid field and vacuum sterilized flesh," he paused and looked at my ring." And not a single power ring. Want to talk about it over dinner? I know a great steak house that asks no questions and gives you all the privacy you could ever want."

A Sunday Roast the night before, and a Steak Dinner tonight, I pondered. It seemed that after most of 5 years in space the universe had decided that I needed real food.

"Sounds great," I agreed. "Though, are you sure this is a conversation you want to have over a meal? It gets a little… messy."

"Before I got a green ring, I was a Marine," he laughed. "I don't know what that means where you're from, but here, it means I eat 'messy' for breakfast."

As it turned out, 'messy' wasn't his favorite accompaniment for his dinner. Or mine, but I was still starving for a meal that I recognized as food, even after Martha Kent's Sunday roast the night before, so I kept mine down.

oooOOOooo

Wednesday 16 July 2006

Central City.

Why the hell would anyone name their city 'Central City'? and I ask this as someone from a nation with some very odd city names.

The ring supplied me with the history of the city without being asked, so I knew the town was named by people long dead, so it is pointless to worry about it.

I hovered over the city's world-famous landmark, the Gateway Arch. While the Arch itself was famous, the story behind it was not quite so well known.

The ring was evidently far too busy trying to find the Flash to supply me with any more information that I hadn't asked for, so I occupied myself by reading from the various displays around the massive steel structure. Gateway to the West? An odd thing to call it, considering the Arch wasn't built until the 1960s, well after the American West was settled, made into states, and 'Manifest Destiny' was no longer in vogue.

That was when I realized that I had spent far too much time around Hermione when she did her 'recreations reading' while at Hogwarts.

Fortunately, a descent into melancholia was averted by a rolled-up newspaper flying past my head. I looked down to spot a red blur atop the arch.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Allen," I said as I came to a hover alongside the speedster.

"Mr. Potter," he said hesitantly. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm just Harry," I laughed. "As you can see, I'm back. After the run-in with Superman, Wonderwoman, and your previous Green Lantern before I left for my mission in space, I thought I ought to speak with the current members of the League to make sure we weren't going to have problems."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Are you planning world domination?"

"I always thought doing something like that would be quite a bit of work, and that's before you start thinking about the administration that sort of thing would involve."

"True enough," a grin formed on his lips. "What about plain old-fashioned crime? I've never dealt with many of the World Domination types because outside of Grod, my Rogues are mostly professional criminals."

"I have access to all the money I could ever possibly want," I laughed.

"Ah, your gold harvesting in the sea," he nodded. "That was brilliant, by the way. I'd have written the idea off as unworkable, but then I don't have a power ring."

"Thank you, but it was all the ring's idea," Harry laughed. "So, do you have a problem with me?"

"I suppose not," the Speedster said with a shake of his head. "Who is next on your list?"

"Mr. Stone," I grinned. "He's far less likely to break my nose or get all stabby with her sword as the Batman and Wonderwoman are. And I need to make up for a major mistake I made with Diana's mother."

"Good luck," the Speedster laughed. "I'd never seen her as angry as she was after you introduced her mother to chocolate chip cookies."

oooOOOooo

Thursday 17 July 2006

Metropolis.

Hidden in the invisibility of Death's Cloak, I watched silently as Victor Stone, clad in a grey hoodie and trousers in place of his normal combat armor, knelt next to a young girl, perhaps 9 or 10 years old. The child was chattering happily while demonstrating the functionality of her new prosthetic left arm.

The event was on the grounds of the park Lex Luthor had gifted to the city of Metropolis in the shadow of his personal skyscraper. Victor was the public face of a charity named 'New You' that assisted children with missing limbs among other issues.

The ring had scoured Luthor's accounting system. New You was completely above board without the slightest whiff of Luthor's 'special' accounting measures.

It seemed that even Billionaires with a penchant for super villainy can have a soft spot for injured children.

Or maybe just the publicity he gets out of being seen to be caring. I waited patiently until the young girl finished showing Victor her new arm and ran off to play with friends before instructing the cloak to take the form of my standard casual attire and fading into visibility next to him.

"Mr. Stone?" I asked quietly.

"GAH!" the hero backed away from me, startled.

"Sorry, sorry, I'd forgotten how suddenly appearing next to someone can be disconcerting."

"Disconcerting is one word for it," Victor said. "What have I done?"

It was my turn to be startled. "As far as I know, nothing."

"So you're not here to mess with me like you did Superman and Wonderwoman?"

"I'm not, just here to talk," I considered his words for a moment, "no comment on what I did to Lantern Jordan?"

"Nah, he was mostly an asshat," Victor shrugged, "I figured he deserved you ratting him out to his bosses. Since Supes and Wondy don't have bosses, you went to their mothers."

"Supes and Wondy?"

"Not to their faces," he admitted. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"After the way 'Supes", "Wondy", and Lantern Jordan wouldn't leave me alone before I left to clean up the Black Lantern infestation, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to check with the current incarnation of the League to see if they have an issue with me now that I'm back on Earth for the foreseeable future."

"Oh," Victor nodded his understanding, "Yeah, I'm cool with you. Another ring user, especially one who can do the things you do, is always welcome in a fight."

"Excellent," I said extending my hand which he took in a delicate grip to as not to crush it.

"Black Lantern?" a woman asked

oooOOOooo

An invitation to meet with Lex Luthor wasn't to be ignored. Properly made, it could be an opportunity. From everything I'd learned of Luthor from the League's files, I was a bit surprised he wanted to meet me.

But then, he had offered to hire Superman the first time they met. Maybe he made that offer to all the 'heroes' he deemed worthy.

I followed Mercy Graves to the lift, where she paused and passed her right hand over a sensor to the right of the door. The door immediately opened, and she gestured for me to enter. Once I was inside the ring started speaking to me.

Multiple Scans in progress. Twelve on the Ring Bearer, seventy-four on Death's Ring.

"Are the scans ongoing?" I subvocalized.

They are. was the response. All scans can be easily blocked.

"Allow the scans to continue. Locate the scanning systems and the data recording erase originals and all copies once we leave."

Understood, the ring acknowledged. Should any data called up before Ring Bearer's exit be corrupted?

"Good idea," I agreed.

Mercy had pushed the button for the 101st floor, then stepped back to watch the numbers climb in the display.

Not open to a chat then.

I directed my attention to the floors flying by. This lift seemed to be rising quite a bit faster than any other I'd ever been in. Was Luthor showing off to a Lantern that could fly? That seemed to be an odd thing to do, still, I made sure my environmental field was ready.

The lift didn't slow until the 98th floor. Mercy had been giving me the side eye for most of the ride and even prepared for the sudden deceleration, she sagged a bit, while I smiled and offered her my hand.

Unneeded of course, but it never hurt to be polite. 34 seconds after I entered the lift, the door opened to reveal an office that appeared to take up half of the entire floor. A desk large enough to seat a dozen people was placed midway between the lift and the windows that made up the outer wall of the entire floor.

"Black Lantern!" the man behind the desk called out as he rose and made the long walk to meet me halfway. "Glad you could make it."

"Harry," I corrected him as we shook hands. The ring informed me that some tracking nanotech had been on his hand, but the Environmental Shield had dealt with it. "Harry Potter. I'm not a Black Lantern, I'm alive, and I have no interest in dominating the universe."

The billionaire's brow furrowed, "but I was told…"

"Everyone thinks that if you wear a uniform and do superhero things you need a code name. I disagree. I'm just Harry."

Luthor lead me back to his desk where a small low chair had folded out of the floor as we approached. Not wanting to play the 'I have the high ground' game, I willed the Elder Wand into my hand and cast before settling down on the duplicate of the upholstered chair from Dumbledore's office.

"You're a magician?" Luthor asked.

"A wizard," I corrected.

"Are you an alien?" he asked, his eyes suddenly hard.

"Well, actually, yes." I admitted.

"And what are your intentions toward Earth?"

Multiple weapons suddenly energized throughout the room in what I thought was a bit of an overreaction. The ring isolated their power supplies and shut them down, while continuing the data feed to Luthor, disguising their actual status. Apparently, it wasn't just Superman. He hated all aliens.

"Now that you've pointed out my error, my short-term plan is to approach the Foreign & Commonwealth Office and see about getting myself registered as a Hero of the Commonwealth."

"What?" Luthor demanded, clearly confused by my answer.

"Well, I'm English, you see," I explained in the time honored manner of an Englishman to a Colonial, "I never really had time to register myself with her Majesty's government, what with the urgency of dealing with the actual Black Lanterns."

"But you said you were an alien!"

"I am, at least that is what the government of the United State would classify me as. I'm not a citizen, so I'm an alien," I affected and expression of realization. "Oh, you meant 'from another planet' type alien didn't you? I'm not one of those, sorry for the confusion."

"I see," Luthor said, clearly understanding that I was messing with him. "What do you think about space aliens? Superman for example?"

"Nice enough lad," I shrugged. "A bit excitable and prone to jumping to conclusions, but he means well. Really easy to prank."

"Easy to prank?" Luthor sputtered. "You prank the Kryptonian?"

"Well, yes, but only because it's funny." I paused for a moment before continuing. "What's your problem with Superman, anyway?"

"I have no problems with the Kryptonian."

"Really?" I asked. "Mr. Luthor, as I am sure you are aware, when I first got my ring I attempted to assist the Justice League with a fight they were having with a trio of Black Lanterns, and got my nose broken for my trouble. As a result, I had my ring harvest all the data in their computer systems."

"You did?" the bald man asked in shock.

"Yep, mostly so that I could avoid the ungrateful wankers in the future" I nodded, "I learned all sorts of interesting things from that data. For example, while you may have managed to prevent the media from finding out about your hobby, the Justice League had all kinds of records. Seriously, Mate, your purple and green battlesuits look just horrible on you."

"I assure you that you misunderstood the propaganda that Superman and his 'League' fed you," Luthor lied.

"Sure I did," I laughed. "Look, Superman punches people in the face. If you want to fight him, you might want consider wearing a helmet."

"And you have better ideas?" Luthor asked sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do," I admitted. "It seems that your goal in your whole 'let's fight Superman' project is to get him to recognize you as the better man."

That comment actually got Luthor to blink in surprise. "Well, yes. I am the better man."

"But you want him to admit it," I pointed out. "He will never do that while you fail to demonstrate it by trying to punch him in the face. Do you know the best way to be seen as being 'the better man'?"

"What?"

"BE the better man. Don't spend fortunes building armor to let you duplicate doing the things he can do due to his biology, actually BE the better man. Instead of coming up with new ways to punch him in his invulnerable face, cure cancer. Or Solve World hunger. Or fix global warming. Or do any of the things a man with your capabilities and resources can do that a Superman can't."

"How would that…?"

"The world would be singing your praises. Fixing things that are wrong, that are killing or crippling innocents will have the population love you. Your New You charity is an excellent start. Keep that up, expand it to help kids, not just from Metropolis but from all over the world, make sure the world knows it's not making you money to do it. It's not like the world will run out of victims of accidents and wars for you to help, you would become as much of a hero to the people of the world as Superman has ever been, and that's not even the best part."

The billionaire swallowed noisily as he considered ideas he had never thought of before.

"What… What would be the 'best part'?"

"Your history with Superman will have him suspecting everything you do, spending his time trying to find out what heinous scheme is behind it all," I smiled. "And if there isn't a scheme behind it, imagine the frustration he'll suffer through."

Luthor considered my points, and what was quite possibly the most honest smile of his adult life spread across his face.

oooOOOooo

Well, meeting Luthor had been… interesting. I wondered if he would take what I told him to heart. Probably not, but only time would tell.

So, what member of the Justice League to meet with next? The Batman with his vicious punch or Wonderwoman who was no doubt still angry with me for introducing her mother to chocolate chip bisquits.

So, Wonderwoman's sword decided it for me. The Batman would be my next contact. But where to find him? He worked in Gotham City, mostly.

The Ring's facial recognition search came up with no matches in the entire state, like at all. That was weird.

No matches in the surrounding states either.

Did the Batman have no public persona? How was he hiding from public view so well? The Ring Scans at our original meeting said he was completely human.

I retired to my rented flat in Woking, admitting to myself that I was going to put off my reunion with Neville for yet another night.

A new idea came to me. I set the ring to searching public videos of the Batman in fights, specifically times when he was injured.

oooOOOooo

Monday 18 July 2005

Alfred Pennyworth's personal history told me that he was a man who knew better than to establish patterns. He had spent a lifetime teaching the young men he had raised the lessons he had learned in his time in service to the Empire. The more I learned about him, the more I was impressed.

That being said, there was but a single tearoom in all of Gotham worthy of the name. I knew full well that there were times when a man needed the tastes and scents of home. His employer and surrogate son lay asleep and healing from his exertions from the night before, and Pennyworth smiled at the waitress when she brought a plate of scones and his customary pot of Darjeeling to his table. I'm sure that at some level, his devotion to tradecraft caused him a bit of annoyance that he had established enough of a pattern for the young woman to know what he wanted without his asking, but I suspected he told himself as he opened his newspaper, surely no one was paying attention to an elderly ex-pat such as himself.

"Mr. Pennyworth," I said, interrupting his solitude. He looked up and looked me in the eye where I had taken a seat across from him. If I were to wager, I suspect that he might have managed to place my dialect as being from the southeast of England, perhaps even isolating me to Surrey. "I was hoping for a chance to speak with you."

Death's cloak had obligingly dressed me in denim trousers and a grey long-sleeved polo shirt, all perfectly normal, so I smiled and continued, "Please, don't bother with your panic button. It won't work, and besides, it would be unnecessary."

"And how can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

I felt my grin widen. "You live up to your reputation, Mr. Pennyworth. Obviously, I've returned."

"After six years," Pennyworth noted.

"It's hardly a secret. I've already met with Superman and several other members of the Justice League since I got back," I offered the man my best grin before continuing. "My point of conflict with the Justice League was my approach to the Black Lanterns. This is no longer a concern, as the Black Lanterns no longer exist."

"Is this something you want to be discussing in public?" the older man asked.

"No worries, Mr. Pennyworth, no one can overhear what we are saying. Few people are even capable of noticing we are here. Think of it as a 'someone else's problem' field."

"I'm not sure what…"

"Mr. Pennyworth, please, don't bother. I have a power ring. It isn't a Black Lantern ring; it is so much more. I know all about your history in service to the Empire. You are a hero sir; someone I am proud to be in the same room with. I would like to ask you, one Englishman to another, to ask your employer to leave me alone."

"Mr. Wayne has no interest in you," Pennyworth insisted.

"So, we have to do this?" I sighed. "Very well. Before I left Earth for my mission, I had a run-in with the whole League as it was constituted at the time, then a week later, the Kryptonian, the Amazon, and Lantern Jordon sought me out again, with the intent to arrest me for imaginary crimes."

With a thought, my ring caused a fine china cup to shimmer into existence in front of me. "You know," I sighed, "in my time off the planet, I came to miss tea, which was odd, as I was never much of a tea drinker. My ring had no idea what 'tea' was and couldn't replicate it for me. As soon as I got back, I brewed a family-sized pot and scanned it so that the ring would know what tea was, and then, drank it all," I lifted the cup to my lips and took a long draw. "Back to my story. I spoke with people that each of the three Leaguers answered and removed myself from their focus. I have looked at the current membership of the League and have estimated that the only member still likely to take a particular interest in me is the Batman, so I thought I might try to find his superiors."

"Good luck with that," Pennyworth mumbled despite himself.

"I know," I nodded. "He has no command structure at all. It's almost as if he answers to no one. Then I thought to approach the man himself. Carefully, of course, he's broken my nose once, not something I would enjoy repeating. This is when I discovered that no one in the six closest states come anywhere near matching his facial recognition patterns."

Pennyworth raised an eyebrow, so I raised my left hand to show off the ring. "Power rings are awesome. That meant I had to do a bit of research. There have been eight different events when Batman publicly suffered severe injuries, so I had the ring search for individuals with evidence of those exact injuries. That found one candidate. A gentleman of breeding who has decided to waste his life and family fortune in the pursuit of wine, women, and song. An ingenious disguise, really, and don't get me started on the methods he uses to spoof facial recognition while in 'uniform'. Much better than glasses."

"Glasses?" Pennyworth asked.

"Not important," I continued while wondering if Pennyworth didn't know just whom I was hinting at. "I would like to ask you to ask your employer if he might just leave me alone. I would do it myself, but he isn't the most approachable individual."

Alfred sat back in his chair. Among his hard-won skills was the ability to read people. I suspected that he believed that I believed what I was saying.

"If I were to come across such a hypothetical person," Pennyworth said hesitantly, "should I be properly motivated, I would certainly relay your request. Your Power Ring is, awesome, you said?"

oooOOOooo

"So," I asked, my hands in my pockets, "why are we here?"

"You asked me for a favor," Alfred responded, leading the way up the steps of the brownstone. "There is a price for everything. For interceding for you with my employer, I would like something from you." The older man pressed a button next to the door, producing a buzzing sound.

"Yes?" a woman's voice issued from a speaker over the button.

"Alfred Pennyworth… and a guest to see you, Barbara."

"A guest?" the woman echoed. "How mysterious, I'm on the fourth floor, Alfred. Come on in."

A different buzz sounded, and the door opened to Pennyworth's touch.

"Should I assume this woman is somehow associated with the favor you require for the favor I want?" I asked.

"Indeed," the older man nodded as he conspicuously took the stairs rather than the elevator. Unwilling to be outdone by a man at least three times my age, I ignored the ring's flight ability and matched Pennyworth's pace up the four flights of stairs.

At the top of the stairs, we found a woman waiting for us. Red hair, green eyes to match my own, she either wore no makeup at all or had applied whatever she wore so effectively as to appear to have none on. Her well-muscled shoulders and arms lead my attention to her legs. Thin and wasted, she kept them together with knees tilted to the right.

She was in a wheelchair.

"Barbara Gordon, this is Harry Potter," Pennyworth said. "Harry this is Barbara Gordon."

The woman's eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "The Black Lantern?" she asked.

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "Black ring, no lantern. Also, I'm alive. Mr. Pennyworth asked that I meet you. Why I'm not sure."

"You want a favor from me, Harry," the old man said. "In exchange I want you to heal Miss Gordon."

"Alfred," the woman said with a glare. "I am fine, I don't need you making deals for me."

"I will admit you have adapted to your injuries admirably," Pennyworth nodded, "you are, however, not fine."

While the pair argued, I focused my attention on Barbara Gordon and asked the ring for a diagnosis and repair options. The information flooded my mind offering me an image of the remains of a major spinal injury and the subsequent atrophy of her muscles and circulatory system below the waist. The Ring's options for repair of the injury would result in pain at levels that were borderline horrific. Memories of screaming through Death's ring healing my own injuries over the years definitively made using it to treat the young woman to be a big plan B.

"If I might," I interrupted, causing the pair to turn and stare at me. "I am fully capable of healing Ms. Gordon, but I can assure you, the level of pain she would suffer through would mean that she would not thank me for it. On the other hand, I might have a second option that would not be as intrusive."

"I've been to all the experts," the young woman said in a bitter tone, "my condition is inoperable."

"Excuse me, Ms. Gordon," I interrupted, "You haven't been to all the experts. I have access to a few that even Mr. Wayne would have trouble contacting."

"What?" she asked in surprise.

"It might take a little time to arrange," I noted, "Would it be permissable for me to return in a week?"

"You can heal me?" She asked.

"I can, but, as I said, you wouldn't thank me for it," I acknowledged. "Trust me on this one."

"I'm always here," she said after a long pause. "You can come back in a week."

"What are you planning, Harry?" Pennyworth asked.

"Asking for help from an old friend who doesn't recognize me," I admitted, "I suspect that all it will take is a bit of money."

oooOOOooo

Wednesday 9 February 2000

"Mr. Potter," Albus Dumbledore said as he approached the gates to Hogwarts. "It has been a while."

"A little over six years," I admitted. "I was hoping that my access to Hogwarts was still active."

"Your trust is ongoing," Dumbledore smiled as the gate opened to his touch. "As a consequence, seventeen talented students will be in attendance come September 1st when they otherwise might not have been. I believe that earns you access to our library, even over the summer. Miss Abbott is no longer working there, however."

"Not much gets by you, does it?" I laughed taking his hand. "It's not the library or Hannah's company I need today, "I was hoping I might have a chance to visit with your nurse. While I've been away, I was frequently unable to find a healer and had to make do with local medical facilities. Being checked out by a professional would put my mind at ease."

"A school's healer, rather than go to St. Mungos?" Dumbledore asked as he leads me along the track to the castle, his expression one of deep interest.

"Some of the things I was doing might not sit well with the Ministry," I explained. "Even though I was thoroughly outside their jurisdiction, I would just as soon not be asked many questions."

"I… see," the old man said, stopping at the castle door.

"Oh, please, Headmaster," I laughed. "Nothing illegal, I assure you, I was simply consorting with Muggles. I'm sure the amount of aggravation you received for coordinating with the Muggle Armies and Air Forces when you were fighting against Grindelwald was monumental."

"True enough," Dumbledore agreed. "This way, if you will?"

oooOOOooo

Poppy Pomfrey moved her wand over me, as she had done so many times before, not that she remembered ever having done so. A look of confusion fixed on her face as she cast the same diagnostic again and again.

"You were among the Muggles, you say?" she asked for the third time.

"Yes," I answered truthfully. The people who had helped me on occasion might not have been human, but none of them had magic.

"I had no idea they had the skills I'm seeing demonstrated here, my diagnostic is telling me that you had your left leg regrown within the last three weeks through a process I can't identify, as well as almost everything between your hips and your right shoulder having been recreated in an utterly unexplainable manner within the last six months," she grumbled.

Accurate enough, I suppose, I'd had no idea her diagnostics were that good. "But other than that, I'm healthy?"

"Almost disturbingly so," she said putting her wand away.

"Excellent, do you have any plans for Thursday next?"

The matron raised a single eyebrow. "I'd heard of your dalliance with Miss Abbott, but I believe that I might be slightly too old for you, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, nothing like that, Madam Pomfrey," I laughed. "I was just thinking that since it is summertime, and your workload must be significantly lightened by not having to deal with suicidal children playing contact sports, you might be interested in a bit of part-time work in your specialty."

"Explain."

From my robes, I drew a lightened Gringotts money bag and handed it to her. "500 Galleons. I have met a young woman suffering from a particularly nasty spinal injury. I believe you might be able to assist her."

"Muggle, I assume?" She asked.

"Yes."

"I see," she pressed the lightened money bag back into my hands. "Muggles lack the vitality to empower potions, Mr. Potter."

I returned the bag. "I can supply the magic she will need, what I need from you is your expertise."

She regarded me with a guarded expression. "That has been done before," she nodded, "usually by teams of healers, but I warn you, doing it on your own could shave decades off your life. Is this young woman that important to you?"

"Death," I sighed, "is the least of my worries. I've been told that I have something of a 'saving people' thing. Are you willing to try?"

oooOOOooo

"These injuries are horrific," Poppy said as she examined the younger woman. "And that was before some butcher took knives to your spine."

"What are you doing?" Barbara asked as she manipulated the controls of the monitor allowing her to view what the stranger the Black Lantern had brought along was doing to her back. The woman had waved a polished stick over her and odd symbols flared into life in midair.

"Examining you," Poppy said in clipped terms. I knew from experience that there were few things the School Nurse disliked more than interested patients. "The healing will not be easy," the older woman sighed. "If you are to survive Mr. Potter, it will take, at minimum, 19 daily sessions."

"If HE is to survive?" Barbara demanded.

Poppy ignored the girl and moved to the leather case she had brought with her, extracting a rack of potion vials, with each container numbered. "Miss Gordon, you are to take one of these each day, at 4:57 pm, starting with the vial numbered 1 in 3 minutes, then you will need to lay on this table, just as you are now, and bare your lower back. Mr. Potter," Poppy took my hands and placed them precisely on either side of the original wound. "Standing as you are now, you will need to place your hands thusly, and then push your magic into your friend, at about the level you would use to cast a light Lumos and maintain that level for at least 43 minutes."

"Why does he need to put his hands there?" Barbara asked.

"Miss Gordon, the potions you are taking require magic to work. You don't have any," Poppy explained. "A witch with your injuries I could cure overnight. Your cure is going to take much longer, and only because Mr. Potter is willing to use his magic to cure you, no matter what it might cost him."

"You make it sound so much more interesting than it is," I snarked.

"If Miss Gordon does not regain sensation in her toes by the 12th day, call me," Poppy ordered before looking at her watch and handing Barbara the first vial. "Miss Gordon, take your potion now."

"Just slam it down," I suggested helpfully. "Get it down your throat before the taste catches up with you."

"Oh," Barbara choked, "That's just vile!"

"They get worse before they get better," Poppy explained. "Now, Mr. Potter, a light Lumos using your hands."

I nodded and pushed my magic into Barbara's back, causing the flesh on either side of her scarred back to glow.

"OH!" Barbara gasped. "Oh!"

"That means you're doing it right," Poppy said knowingly. "After this session, feed her a light broth, and then straight to bed." She looked between the pair of us suspiciously, "Alone. A large breakfast in the morning, whatever she wants for lunch, then repeat tomorrow. On day 7, Miss Gordon will need more of a meal for dinner, so a stew perhaps. On day 14, meat. A steak or Ham."

"Right," I nodded again. "Thank you."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter," Poppy said as she activated her portkey and vanished.

"God, she's bossy. So, you're a witch," Barbara said once they were alone.

"A wizard. Witches are women."

"Wizard, not warlock?" She pressed.

"Warlock is a ceremonial title," I said. "It's hard to explain. I don't know how the magical cultures of North America do it, could be different terms entirely here."

"I'll have to ask Zatanna," she sighed before moaning low in her throat, "God that feels good."

"Really?" I asked, "I thought I was hurting you."

"No, whatever it is feels good. Nothing below the injury, but above, wonderful."

"Oh, good."

"So, you're a wizard with a magic wand, a power ring, and magic hands?" Barbara asked. "How did that happen?"

"It's a long story," I sighed.

"We don't seem to be going anywhere," the young woman pointed out. "Entertain me, tell me your long story."

"Alright," I nodded, "Just remember, you asked for it."

I closed his eyes and wondered how to start. It seemed that starting at the beginning would likely be the best idea.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn't hold with such nonsense." I began.

"Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and, in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere."

oooOOOooo

A/N: I forgot to give credit for the idea behind the unnamed Alien spice used in the last chapter for Harry's Chocolate Chip Biscuits. I stole that whole hog from Elliot S! Maggin's prose Superman Novel "The Last Son of Krypton". Criminally out of print and not available as a (legal) digital file, if you happen across a copy in a used bookstore and are a fan of the big blue boy scout, grab it.

Maggins' worked extensively in DC Universe's mainstream comics and also writes the best, most ambitious, least insane, most human Lex Luthor out there. In the aforementioned prose novel, a throwaway line from Luthor explains his reasoning for everything he has ever done. The World is not enough for Lex Luthor, he wants the Universe and is planning on using humanity's drive to win to get it.