Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish otherwise. I do not own DC characters as well.

Chapter Twelve

The robes pooled on the edge of the comforter. The remnant streaks of gold were vanished, as well as lingering strands of lettering. Once crimson, he'd shifted the color into an immutable black. As fond as he was of the original colors, red was highly visible. While quite a few shades deeper, to outward appearance they were now not that different from his regular school robes. The exceptions being that they were much more durable and were constructed with minor protective spells placed upon them to cushion blows incurred in the sport.

He'd frowned over his school slacks the night before, and the others he'd purchased on his second day in the city. His Quidditch and school uniform pants were either thin or heavy fabrics. While heavy fabric was more desirable for protection, the heat of his current location was persuasive enough for Harry to pass over them. He had also had a growth spurt since he last played Quidditch and the tailored pants fell short of being acceptable. His school uniform pants had been altered in Hogsmeade but weren't sturdy enough to hold up to vigorous exercise, thin or thick fabric, so he passed on them as well. He wasn't skilled or knowledgeable about altering clothes himself, so set his eyes on the slacks he'd purchased. None were naturally black, but that was no issue.

Gloves lay beside the robes, t-shirt and color-charmed jeans. A sturdy pair of boots rested on the floor once more. Gathered together, they represented a nearly complete costume.

Dragon hide was extremely popular in Wizarding clothing, being both fire proof and tougher. He didn't own very much in the way of that, besides his Herbology and Potions gloves and the thick and durable protective pads which were fantastic for Quidditch. The pads he owned were a mahogany shade of brown. Even if he turned them another shade as he had the cloak, they weren't a far cry from his Quidditch gear and ran the risk of being identifiable as belonging to a wizard for any Muggleborns and Half-bloods who might catch sight of him.

The goggle lenses, altered for his prescription years ago by Madam Pomfrey at the request of a frustrated Oliver Wood, were exchangeable to wear in place of his spectacles. He'd intended to use them as such, altering the upper rims to encompass his forehead. While the angry red of his scar was subdued by the application of make-up, he'd been uncomfortable with the worry that he might rub it unconsciously, as he pushed his hair back or any number of things.

The rim material refused to properly enlarge, and he grudgingly realized it too must have been enchanted. Stretched paper thin at the top, the disproportional ends looked more than odd. He reversed the charm and was left with the original goggles. After several minutes of frustration, Harry set to removing the lenses themselves. They were stubbornly ensconced and not until Harry hesitantly summoned one did they give way. It cracked in two yanking free of the frames and both pieces settled onto the desktop where he directed. Harry murmured, "Reparo." There was a visible flash of light as the pieces fused themselves together once more. He repeated the process on the remaining lens.

Both sat whole and gleaming in the desk lamp's luminesce. Harry tapped the glassy surface again. The color shifted from crystal clear to opaquely-shaded. To all appearances looking as though it originated from a pair of sunglasses.

It took several times and adjustments for the alteration to be merely optical on one side. He'd learnt the charm through less than studious means. Third year, before the season changing game with Hufflpuff, Harry caught the twins and Lee Jordan fussing over a section of the locker room walls after practice. A number of stone bricks were stacked against the wall away from their gathering. Harry drew closer, curious what they were up to. George was attempting to cast with a serious expression. Lee corrected George, enunciating the pronunciation slowly twice. Neighboring the boys lockers were of course the girls, and through the window-like back of the mirror Harry had been shocked to catch flashes of his female teammates towel-clad forms after the haze of light proved the spell successful. He'd stammered the other boys ought to quit what they were doing, turning away with a fierce blush as they jumped at his voice.

The ignoble trio had started laughing so boisterously, one of the twins accidentally leant too hard against the mirror, banging his arm as he tried to support himself. On the girls' side, all three turned to what he then realized was a mirror. Katie Bell had been the first to storm into the boys section, she, Alicia and Angelina proceeded to chase the twins around, shouting out. Lee had clambered into the nearest locker swiftly for sanctuary before they descended and Harry stood, his back glued firmly to the stone wall, entirely ignored.

He'd still been standing there when Oliver clambered from the showers to see what the commotion was. Oliver had very seriously demanded they all of them cease what they were doing lest the team be caught by a professor and banned from the next game. Angelina and Fred had shared a dastardly grin before turning their wands on their coach. Both spells had collided and rather than Angelina's intended dousing and whatever Fred had intended, the room was submerged in bubbles shifting in color. When the bubbles burst on skin, the floor, the walls or anywhere their color altered wherever they'd touched to their shade. It had taken well over two hours for the lot of them to both fix the damage and clean themselves up once more.

Harry smiled fondly in memory as he held the lens he was working on up once more, seeing through it unclouded to his satisfaction. The final shade was dark enough to conceal his eye color but not his eyes themselves. Stretching his back and yawning, Harry glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

Curtains left drawn aside, Harry turned his gaze out and up. Above the skyscrapers, and to the city-muted night sky. The night was nearly swallowed in darkness but for the fingernail of light cutting through the black. Faded stars broke up the rest. His mind's eye automatically drew the patterns that he knew by rote. After several moments Harry turned over and fell away to sleep.

Morning's first light slowly roused Harry from sleep. Falling out of bed, Harry rubbed at his eyes blearily. Harry dug through the chest of drawers and pulled himself into clothes decent to run in, wand tucked inside his long-sleeve. A thin duo of strings held it taut in place so as not to slide out at an inopportune moment. In annoyance he wished for something more substantial. He'd seen holsters in Diagon Alley hanging from leather belts though they were not terribly practical for walking around in the regular world. Moody carried a wand holster; straps and strips of leather keeping the wand in place along his forearm and a much better system than Harry's own approximation. His own wand was far too long to carry comfortably in his pocket and it was very inconvenient to tuck it away in a bag when the seconds fumbling for it could lead to disaster. He couldn't very well go to a Muggle store and look for either belt or arm holsters for wands. It would be an amusing experience trying and attempting to explain to a clerk his desire to carry a stick at all times.

He had seen neither hide nor hair of a Wizarding shopping Centre, not that he'd seen a fraction of the city. Diagon Alley after all wasn't tucked into the hub of the shopping districts of London, and he'd stuck fairly close to the beaten trail of Metrpolis's tourist sections so far. He had no doubt the city was host to wizards, its size alone almost guaranteed Muggleborns at the least. Even if he could disguise himself in some manner so as not to be recognized on sight, he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to search Metropolis' magical population out.

Harry gathered his clothes up from the small heap he'd tossed down prior to showering upon his return, placing them in the small basket he'd bought for that purpose some days ago in order to avoid calling laundry services to fetch it every day. Comfortable day clothes were crawled into quickly, but an abrupt brrring! interrupted the rest of his morning ritual. Toweling his hair roughly Harry navigated around the bed to reach for the telephone. Three additional rings sang off before he let off a light hearted "Hello?"

Hermione drawled across the line, "You're sounding chipper."

"Just had a good day yesterday, that's all." And he had enjoyed the evening. Kara's guardians were very pleasant, if a little inquisitive. Kara seemed very happy he'd made a good impression on them, and that made him happy.

Harry eased into the desk chair, towel draped over his shoulder. He'd left the curtains and blinds when he woke as they were. Even at the early hour the sounds of the city stirring to alertness drifted through the walls and glass.

"I take it you survived?" The phone crackled for a moment as though it was moving on Hermione's end.

"Well, I still have a pulse." Adjusting the cordless against his ear, Harry stretched back.

She sighed in good natured irritation. "Dumbledore wrote me. He's sent another round of letters out to everybody to see if they've any idea where you might be. I mentioned in my reply you were always intrigued by Sirius' tales of being a fugitive. And how fascinated you were in those tropical birds he used to send during fourth year."

Harry wasn't sure whether to be pleasantly shocked or appalled, and her antics back in England drew him out of sadness over the mention of his godfather. "You didn't."

"It's not as though I lied. I misdirected." Hermione was most insistent upon that. "Anyway, I've been to Diagon Alley. You know it's always easy to tell what our new texts will be when they start increasing inventory, and I won't have a chance to go again until right before school starts. Mum and Dad settled on when to take some time off from their practice, we're going to Italy."

"That sounds fantastic. But didn't you already buy everything for this year last year?" Hermione had begun a tradition first year tracking down upper years for their required text lists. Harry's attention drifted to the television, a thin scrawl was flooding the bottom of the news report. He stood and walked over to the edge of the bed the better to read.

"They could change their syllabuses." Hem-hawing, Hermione put forth.

"Did you see anything for Defense?" Harry asked. His attention was grabbed by a blurb mentioning a report of survivors from the San Diego disaster being discovered alive. It sounded like good news, but he was left wondering when a city had managed to sink and wouldn't that have been something considered newsworthy in the Wizarding World?

"No, I haven't read of a new professor being hired yet either in the Prophet." She sounded rather worried. "I do hope they'll settle on someone before September!"

"Dumbledore won't want to leave the spot open for the Ministry to interfere again." At least Hary was almost entirely sure of that.

"I'm rather surprised he did last time…" Hermione trailed off before continuing, "Though there's not too many people qualified and willing."

"Besides Snape, for the willing part. And thank god that won't happen. Lupin could come back though." Harry's hand stilled on the remote as the thought struck him. Lupin to his estimation had been the best of their best Defense professors; albeit lined up against two of Voldemort minions (and Voldemort himself, sort of), a fraud and a toad.

Hermione regret in her voice, disagreed, "I doubt the parents would let him, it's a shame though. And as…interesting as it might be to learn from the genuine article, I don't think Professor Moody would agree to teach with things as they are. I suppose we'll have to wait to find out, like-"

Harry cut in, flicking the channel to something less serious. "The past two years?"

She made a sound of agreement. "Are you planning to come back before the train? I mean, are you going to be in London before the 1st?"

"I kind of have to, to get new robes. And books. And a crate of owl treats so Hedwig will forgive me." Canned laughter echoed in the room, the falseness contrasting with Hermione's amused giggle. Harry leant back, his split attention fading from the television. They talked a few moments more, Hermione worrying over her OWL results. Harry considered it fairly ridiculous that she actually believed she'd done less than perfection. No amount of consolation would deter her from worrying however. He rather dreaded NEWT's, which she was already reviewing for as of last year, and wondered exactly how much they would affect her mental health. And in the next stilted heartbeat considered their effect on his own by association.

If she caught of any of his more cautious remarks regarding the coming term she didn't let on. Harry finally excused himself to finish getting ready for the day.

They convened inside of a small diner two blocks from their destination. It boasted serving breakfast all day long and a steady and sizeable crowd for the hour testified to the quality. Harry was more than happy to delve into a plate of hearty fare.

His smile, his face and eyes, all faded into a morose visage. It was sharp, sudden yet slow to her perception as she focused on it. She followed his gaze in confusion, finding only a woman and a small boy walking along the opposite street with a dog.

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip before venturing, "Are you okay?"

He turned to her as though struck, his eyes clearing swiftly. "Kara? Yes. Yes, I'm fine. You were saying something about a game?"

"The Meteors. Clark can't make it with Lois next weekend so they gave me their tickets." As though as an apology for the previous night, her cousin and his wife had made the peace offering before they left for work in the morning. Though of course if she asked if that was their purpose, Clark at least would deny it fervently.

"And the Meteors are…?" He asked, trying to recall the appellation.

Kara gave a wry grin while still watching him carefully, "Baseball."

Nodding, Harry replied, "Ah. Apt." The smile he gave seemed a little forced but it was a smile. She was relieved to hear him answer, "I'd love to."

"Clark and Lois told me I have to be back by eleven tomorrow." She continued, speaking on their planned trip to the observatory. She tucked straying locks behind her ears as she shifted in her seat.

"That sounds reasonable." More than to Harry, considering Gryffindor's curfew was a sad 9:00 PM fifth year and up.

"Harry, I kind of have to ask. When we met you said you just took a random flight. You are here, alone, aren't you? I mean, you don't know anyone or aren't visiting with anyone?"

Harry considered lying. Considered it. The worst that could happen was, well, he wasn't certain what the worst could be. Having to leave seemed probable. And that, that was an entirely undesirable outcome. He found himself nodding before he decided.

"Oh." Kara sounded unsurprised. "I think Clark and Lois think you're with your relatives."

Harry nodded again, thinking on what to say.

"They didn't ask me, but... They could be a little," Kara raised a hand in concern, palm up. "If they knew you weren't. I'm not planning on telling them, though." She added the last hastily.

Harry swallowed. Uncertain what to say in response. "I just wanted a trip by myself. That's all."

"I get it. I wish I could get Clark and Lois to let me go out of town alone." She offered a rueful grin.

"It wasn't hard to convince my Aunt." Harry leant back, a smile flickering across his face.

"She must really trust you, to let you travel alone." Kara commented.

Harry replied with a smile, "Or something."

His off-hand response being inappropriate he realized quickly before Kara asked, "Or what?"

"Relieved." Harry supplied, his head ducking once more. "We don't get on well. Have you gone to a Meteors game before?"

"Nope. But they're good." Lois had given her that impression as Kara herself hadn't been to an Earth game of any sort yet. Kara had read up on popular Earth sports games, football seemingly more popular in the United States.

"Who are they playing?" Asked Harry.

Kara let Harry distract her from the topic of his relatives. She could easily read from his voice and expression he had no desire to talk about them. Conversation shifted from the Meteors to the subjects of the wax exhibit. On Paradise Island there hadn't been much to do besides either training or reading and Diana had pressed her to study files on Earth's villains. Besides Darkseid, she had yet to encounter other villains. Kara herself was eager to see firsthand wax likenesses of people who might one day be her future opponents; flat, still photographs rarely did justice after all.

Typing, quiet and loud conversations, calls for lunch orders, printers humming and papers ruffling; all merged into the bustle of the Daily Planet. It was a familiar enough cacophony that two of the paper's star reporters felt it safe to talk about a more delicate topic.

"I haven't had that much time, but this is all I've got so far. Not much. He had a few write ups in ele-primary school. Fighting. There's not a lot of information on his current school. It's listed as private and yep, in Scotland on the UK registry." Lois leaned over the paper work as she spoke, absently tapping her pen.

"What else?" Clark asked.

"Parents, Lily and James Potter died in a house fire in Godric's Hollow, Devon on October 31st, 1992. Ward of his maternal aunt, a Petunia Dursley and her husband Vernon. Vernon Dursley is the director of Grunnings, a drill manufacturer. The Dursley's have one child, a son, Dudley." Her lips curled in amusement at that as she glanced up.

"Home address is 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, about an hour from London. Verifying the parents attended the same school has been difficult. This place doesn't even have a website and the number provided on the registry played the dullest classical music for over an hour. I had to hang up when Perry called me over. James Potter was born and attended primary school in Godric's Hollow. Lily Potter nee Evans born and attended school in Spinner's End, Manchester. Both withdrew from local schools when they turned eleven, so it's very likely. James Potter had a few speeding tickets, but otherwise a spotless record. Harry's cousin actually has a bit of a record from over a year ago; disturbing the peace.

The parent's occupation wasn't listed in the local paper though." She frowned, flipping back through. "If they were cops there should have been some mention in the obituaries…I called the local precincts, neither of them were ever employed. I don't know why he would lie about something like that. He might not be, it could be some other agency, or they commuted. It's probably nothing."

"But other than that he's checked out then?" Clark looked up from the print-outs he was scanning slowly.

Lois hesitated for a moment, "There's something else. I don't know. It's really not anything."

Her husband asked, "What?"

"Something from the paper." She turned to her computer screen and dragged a news article up so that it filled the display screen. Clark leaned forward, scanning the article quickly as she spoke. "James and Lily Potter were found to have died of smoke inhalation. According to the fire inspector, the fire originated in the nursery. Their child was in the custody of his aunt when the authorities came to deliver the news three days later."

"What's odd is that the Dursley's claimed that a family friend of the Potters' who had apparently been baby-sitting dropped the child off a day after the fire, informing them of the deaths. Before making contact with the Dursley's police believed Harry had died in the fire as well."

"Why wouldn't the family friend have contacted the police that the child was safe?" Lois turned back to Clark, her pen tapping rhythmically in her left hand, "And why wouldn't the Dursley's have contacted the police themselves? It is strange, isn't it?" It sounded like something normal people would have dismissed but reporters, especially investigative reporters, were skeptical by nature.

"I guess grief could explain it." He finally answered, and she nodded in agreement.

"Still, it's a little strange." She shrugged. "But that's really all that was standing out. No juvenile record. Nothing. Nothing that I've found yet at least."

Lois asked after a moment of observing him, "Do you think he's, okay?"

"I don't see any evidence otherwise." Clark said simply.

She considered his face with a raised eyebrow, "You're not disappointed are you?"

"No." Scandalized at her assumption, Clark returned to his desk.

The Royal Flush Gang read out in stilted lettering at the foot of the waxen gathering's base. An information poster adjacent listed out their notorious achievements and failures in brevity. Several news covers and other photographs were framed and set along the enclave. Harry stepped over to read the articles, unfamiliar with the villains. Finishing, he turned back to regard the statues proper.

Wax glistened under display lights. One figure, placard reading Ace, appeared more realistic than the rest of those gathered, as well as the rest of the displays he'd viewed so far. Looming more than a head over Harry, its metallic skin sheen appeared genuine. Of course real clothes, prop weapons and so on were incorporated into the designs, but Ace looked wholly metallic.

He observed the statue contemplatively, fingers drifting down to pause over his pants pocket where his wand rested. He felt a shot of embarrassment run through him as he reminded himself where he was. Just because he was surrounded by moving portraits, statutes, suits of armor at Hogwarts didn't mean that this was-

His head angled away, Harry caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He turned around once more, gazing up, but saw nothing discernible. A few more breaths and Harry forced his face to shield any disturbance, cautiously retreating out.

"Are any of these, animatronic?" Harry asked after Kara joined him again a short distance away from the unnerving exhibit. Her hands were smoothing her hair down and it looked not unlike his own after he'd been on a swift broom ride.

Frowning she stilled her hands, lowering them to her sides, "What? No. I didn't see any signs, why?"

He reached out and placed a hand on her elbow, his face distracted. "I think we should-" His words of warning were cut short as a small blast echoed out of the upper level of the museum.

Harry moved in front of Kara as he scanned for the source of the chaos, bumping into her as she leant forward in tandem with him. People scattered, aiming towards exits and away from the noise.

"Stay down." Kara said, both of them bending below the sizeable Chemo display stand.

A crash behind caused Harry to turn about. Stepping out was the Ace Harry had been concerned with. Harry pulled at Kara's arm as they both scrambled up. The villain drew up one of the weapons that had been in the hands of his wax compatriots. Ace fired randomly, apparently seeking to cause chaos.

The teenagers fell back as the android advanced towards the stairs. A stray shot hit the wax figure of Gorilla Grodd, and the false primate began teetering over them as they scrambled away. Harry cleared the fall as Kara urged him out ahead of her as they doubled back.

Harry turned on his knees, looking down in dismay as he sought to lift the figure. He managed to push up enough that Kara dragged her hand loose. She curled up, bending on one knee as Harry spoke, "There's a fire exit in that hallway."

Harry gestured across the chamber, his voice lowered as he ducked his head around the pillar to glance about.

A rumbling crackle preluded a groan from the infrastructure above. The sound of more firing, but no corresponding panicked screams followed. Harry didn't see anyone still inside in his line of sight.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, his eyes darting about as he turned to his companion. From her intent expression she had. Kara nodded confirming his assumption, and reached forward grabbing his hand.

"This way." She tugged firmly, leading him in the opposite direction they'd been headed.

Harry drew up beside her as the ceiling above where they had sought exit collapsed to their level.

Concern for other patrons and employees flooded Harry, but he could hardly leave his friend before he asserted that she was safely away from the danger. Their section had been sparse with other people, and still no one seemed left as they came up towards the entrance of the building.

"You go on, there could still be people trapped upstairs." Harry gestured to the doors, free and clear of further obstructions.

"Everyone else is out." Kara insisted, not releasing her firm grip. "Can't you hear the fighting? These guys aren't hurting anybody else."

"Harry, come on." She insisted, nodding her head to the doors once more.

He nodded reluctantly after scanning the area once more.

Bursts of repetitious lights flooded his sight as they exited the building. They flurry of colors been filtered out by tinted glass, a feature meant to protect exhibits inside. Police cars with ambulances behind them were stretched out in formations on the street parallel to the front of the museum.

They were ushered to one side by authorities, gathered with other bystanders.

Harry caught sight once more of the man who melted into a streak of red and blue. Despite the distance they'd been pushed back, Harry witnessed the man called Superman fly out to speak with police officers. Tall and straight backed, there was something almost familiar about the hero. The number of pictures he'd seen since his first day in the city were no doubt to blame.

"That was, an experience." Harry observed as he glanced at his companion again. The crowd was being urged to disperse, and the teenagers were drawing back voluntarily down the street. The excitement over the robbery still set his nerve endings about. Not in fright of course; in alarm.

Kara seemed not entirely put off by the experience. Considering the vast majority of the girls and not to mention boys he was familiar with from school, her composure was impressive. In fact she looked a great deal more annoyed than he was himself at the senseless violence. "What kind of losers plan a heist in the middle of the day?"

"Maybe they're afraid of the dark?" Harry jokingly replied. The attitude to the events he'd witnessed in his time in the city was fairly baffling. Both at the museum and in the street his first day people were completely reassured after small bouts of panic that they would shortly be rescued. Kara herself seemed to have completely adopted this attitude, while only being a relative newcomer to Metropolis herself. Harry was fairly sure if he started appearing blasé towards chaos the Prophet would label him insane. Not that they needed reasons.

"This is Metropolis. Not Gotham." Kara dismissed with a wave of her left hand. He glanced over it remembering the display that had fallen onto it during the robbery. To his bemusement her wrist, forearm and hand all looked perfectly fine: no scuffs marred her skin and no early discolorations declared bruising was eminent. Harry considered with relief that it must not have been as heavy as it had looked.

Gotham, apparently an approximation of a Muggle City-sized Knockturn Alley, had a fair amount of disturbing occurrences and citizens associated with it; he'd been informed both from the newscasts he'd viewed and the articles he'd read. It hardly sounded like the place to visit as a tourist, let alone live as a resident.

"Oh, before I forget." Digging in his slacks pocket Harry spoke, "I got a cellular."

"Cell." She corrected. He looked up in confusion before Kara added, "Cell phone. They are called cellular, but they're usually called cell phones."

"Oh. Well. I have one now." He brandished it as though he was quite proud of his acquisition, though uncertain whether or not she thought it was acceptable.

A smile graced her lips and her hand stretched out. Kara spoke along with these other actions, "Hand it over."

He did so without question and she began swiping across the screen, pulling up Contacts. Her fingers flew across the screen with nearly supernatural speed and she handed it back smiling. "I sent myself a text so that I'll have your number."

"Brill." Harry grinned back at her, tucking it away once more. Kara glanced at her own phone rather often, mentioning Clark and others checking up with her. She'd been shocked when he'd confessed to not owning one when they'd first made arrangements to meet again. Harry had passed a store earlier in the morning and the magic of the Muggle Deterrent Passport the goblins had provided him extended to granting no hassle when he used the hotel's address for his account. Allowing funds to be withdrawn monthly had also solved the issue of payment.

Shopping bags bounced against his legs as he boarded the elevator heading towards his floor. There were a couple of hours left until sunset; being the height of summer the day stretched past eight. He'd parted from Kara several hours ago after they'd wandered into a theater for a matinee. Harry walked sedately back to the hotel, the feather light charms he'd happily cast on the bags providing considerable relief.

Harry set about unloading the bags onto the bed after he entered, closing the door with his foot. Black leather jackets two in number rested on the comforter alongside less important purchases. The shopping bags from the various stores he stuffed into the trash. Compressing them, rustling emitted from the escaping air.

Harry drew one of the jackets up, gathering one of the sleeves up and letting the weight of the rest of the jacket pull the rest clear as he swiped his wand in the air. The desired portion taken, Harry draped the sleeve on the surface of the desk. His wand held more carefully Harry sliced through the seam, cutting away below the elbow. Smoothened ovals were carved out of the upper portion. Taking more than a dozen tries to get the approximation correct, the general shape slowly took on something more properly mask like.

Fitting the lenses inside the holes Harry had to squeeze and adjust his hold. Once one was firmly in place he took his wand and cast the Sticking Charm between fabric and glass. Securing the last lens, Harry held the mask up to his face

He'd hesitantly experimented with the Sticking Charm on a portion of his arm to get a feel for the force necessary and what would not be harmful attaching and detaching the mask from his skin. It proved successful and Harry used it to apply the mask to his face. It drew a swath of black across his forehead, cutting short one inch below his hair line and one higher than his scar. The lower part hugged his nose above the bridge, tapered down into crevices. The sensation proved unfamiliar enough to be uncomfortable. It looked a great deal stranger than he thought it would as he blinked at himself bending over the vanity sink.

With the color of his eyes skewed in addition to the lightning scar being shielded, Harry considered with some pause that it looked like he would be almost unrecognizable from a distance. Shopping in Diagon Alley, walking about London, even the strange encounters he remembered from his childhood of overenthusiastic wizards and witches walking up to him, all were evident that his scar stood him out in any crowd. When he was younger, he was fond of how it looked, not knowing its origin nor its significance. Since he began Hogwarts, Harry did his best to cover it with his hair and was reluctantly prepared to be recognized by any witch or wizard with passing knowledge of Voldemort and by extension himself. Even in Metropolis he found it prudent to arrange his hair about his face. There was a certain thrill to being passingly-anonymous, but he was entirely certain that if he came in close contact with his own kind the anonymity would vanish. With the mask, he had firm indistinctness.

He removed the charm, cradling the end product for a moment. Harry returned to the bedside table where he'd tucked away the hotel provided pamphlets and guides. Laying atop the lot was the room service menu. Harry thumbed through and called to order in his dinner. Tucking away everything incriminating into his trunk, Harry settled onto the bed to watch the television waiting for it to arrive.

The sun began fading, natural light becoming too sparse to continue reading the Defense text he'd begun perusing after eating. Harry closed the text and placed it down onto the surface of the small table as he rose. His hands braced against the railings, Harry surveyed the city.

Withdrawing inside Harry turned the blinds shut, allotting a small amount of space left open and leaving the sliding glass door pulled back.

Harry considered his reflection again, nervously. He blinked owlishly behind the improvised mask. Turning in a circle, Harry kept his head angled towards the mirror as he surveyed the costume.

Harry gripped his Firebolt, checking over his form to ensure the Invisibility Cloak was secure and draping properly. He gripped folds between his hands and the shaft of the broom, leaning his entire body onto the broom Harry floated in front of the mirror, turning about slowly. Satisfied, Harry angled out towards the portion of space he'd left open for his departure.

He kept the cloak well wrapped, even as he flew higher above the city skyline. There were no doubt any number of cameras about that might capture his flight. He angled the broom down, setting down some distance from the hotel on a building not tens of stories above the ground, mid-sized.

The broom he set parallel to the edge of the roof, the small enclosing wall tucking it in nicely. Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over the broom, marking in his mind where he'd left them. The task of concealment ended, Harry stilled as he stood up and out. Harry turned and leant back against the rooftop, his back to the city and eyes gluing to the cement. Uncertainty was overwhelming further action.

Within a few more breathes Harry let himself slide to the rooftop. The mask he'd sealed to his face a short while ago felt foreign to his fingertips as rose a hand to his forehead. Knees drew up, a short space in front of his chest.

Snape's constant commentary about Harry being a 'glory-hound' rang in his head. His own friends thought he was well-intentioned yet foolhardy at times. He grumblingly accepted that they, his friends, had something of a point. He didn't like waiting to act. The very idea of seeing if someone else would was ludicrous. He'd learnt over the years delays would only escalate a situation, and the danger.

It was true that were already people helping others, out here in the Muggle world. He didn't have to do anything. And even if he'd done far more dangerous and not to mention idiotic things before didn't meant this was any less dangerous. Or less idiotic for that matter. And it was also hardly a way to avoid attention, as he'd set his mind to boarding the aircraft in London.

He was still hesitating when a sound like a firecracker startled him out of any decisions.

Bending on his knees as he turned his body and elevated it to look out, Harry cast his eyes downwards. Catching sight of a man running around the corner and rounding the alleyway, and another man not far behind. Harry took off towards the fire exit. Harry eased down, restraining himself from hurrying further and drawing attention.

Landing, Harry swung his wand out, repelling the aggressor. A bit too excited, the spell responded and was more powerful than he meant. The aggressor slammed into a dumpster, slumping over.

Harry drew closer, his wand steady as he watched the slowly moving aggressor.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry eyed the man who had been chased, he gestured with his free left hand for him to leave. The man was hovering at the edge of the opposite end of the alleyway where he'd retreated. Looking positively spooked, the man jumped, nodded and began running again.

"Who the hell are you?" The masked man demanded of Harry as he attempted to sit up straight. Harry's response was a red flooding light that overtook the criminal's form following the clipped and annoyed "Stupefy."

He stared at the man in contemplation. He didn't exactly want to stay around and chat with the incoming authorities. The sirens were off enough of a distance that he would hardly have to run if he departed shortly. On the same token, he didn't want to chance the man escaping if he didn't stay until they arrived.

"Incarcerous." The word concentrated in his mind, Harry cast the spell with a swift thrust of his wand in the man's direction. Voice lowered, ropes flew out of his wand and wrapped around the prone form. A few more than he meant; the man looked as though he were a human candy cane to Harry's bemusement. Harry reversed the stunner from the safety of the staircase. The man was still spewing obscenities when three police cruisers drew up, their occupants exiting with weapons drawn. They called out, what Harry couldn't hear, and surrounded the squirming bad guy.

Harry settled on his broom, leaving at the opposite end he entered after watching the man loaded into a police vehicle. He worried before they arrived that they wouldn't know the unconscious man was a villain, but the ski mask probably had something to do with it. As he flew along, he caught sight of the man who'd been attacked standing with police officers, gesturing wildly. Harry didn't dip down the listen, directing the Firebolt up and away.

He continued flying several additional blocks before pulling short. He'd gone beyond where he was familiar and drew his wand out for to cast Point Me. His wand drew back and right, indicating the direction towards the hotel. The action let Harry have some idea of where he was. Harry let his wand drop, severing the location spell with the gesture.

It seemed as though a lot of time passed, but to his consternation, it was a mere ten minutes since he had landed at the building.

They were alone for the moment, not that Superman was surprised. Batman most likely wouldn't have messaged him to swing by if any of the other man's protégés were in the Cave.

Before he could convey a greeting the other man asked without turning his head from the sizeable and fairly new computer screen, "When were you going to tell me you're letting her date?"

The 'her' was hardly a mystery. Batman had seemingly stood aside with his objections to Kara living off of Themysicra shortly after the incident with Darkseid. Superman knew his friend well enough to recognize it was only a matter of time before he would critique the decision. It had seemed more likely to be when Supergirl was introduced to the public and wetting her feet in the hero community.

"She's not dating." Superman crossed his arms, obscuring the S on his chest. "And it's not exactly your decision to tell her if she can or can't."

"She's a teenager and she possesses powers that she barely has a handle on. Powers that could potentially be unstable if she is emotional. Boys make girls emotional. Just like girls make boys emotional. In case you've forgotten."

Superman's hand drew up in dismissal, attention turned towards one of the many trophy displays so that the other hero couldn't see the irritation beginning on his face. That didn't keep his voice clear of the emotion, "She's stronger than you credit her."

"I don't doubt her strength. It's her hormones that I question." Batman responded with his own disapproval.

Superman shook his head, frustration warring on his face with irritation at his friend's continued questioning of his own beliefs and decisions. His arms no longer crossed he turned his head to address Batman. "Lois and I have already vetted him."

Batman finally broke eye-contact with his work, saving as he turned the chair away from the work station. Standing he walked over to the Kryptonian, "How in-depth did you go?"

"Everything he told us came up clean." Superman replied.

"That's not the question I asked." Batman's voice was as level as though he were lecturing one of the newer members of the League.

"Public records. He's, he's a nice kid. Look, I don't think he's out to hurt her." Superman held his hands out again.

Batman's face didn't alter an inch as he asked, "So you don't want to hear what I found?"

TBC