Shadowflame

Lois Lane was sprawled on the couch, cross-legged, with a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap and the remote in one hand. Her face was lit up with the kind of grin that usually followed a front-page scoop. She was watching the footage for the hundredth time, and honestly, it got better every single viewing. Shadowflame—a kid who looked barely old enough to vote—was in midair, his wings blazing like two giant birds on fire, and then bam, he clocked Black Adam with a right hook so solid, you could practically hear it from Metropolis.

Not just any punch—this one had "where did the lights go?" written all over it. Wonder Woman and Shazam were hanging out in the background, looking like this was just a regular Tuesday. Lois? She was still picking her jaw up off the floor.

"I need an interview with this kid," she muttered to herself, her eyes glued to the screen. A teenage wizard-slash-superhero who could knock out Black Adam like he was swatting a fly? Yeah, that had Pulitzer written all over it.

And here was the kicker—it wasn't just any teenager. Nope, this was Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. You know, kid from another universe, a magical world, gets picked up by Luthorcorp, experimented on, and boom, suddenly has Wonder Woman's DNA mixed into his own. Meaning, technically? He was Wonder Woman's son now. Yeah, just your average day in the world of superheroes.

Between that and the gossip she'd been picking up from Queen Mera and Iris West-Allen, Lois could write a novel. And the cherry on top? The latest scandal—Showergate. Apparently, Harry had accidentally walked in on Kara—Clark's cousin—while she was in the shower. Let's just say it was awkward for everyone involved. Like, painfully awkward.

Lois snickered. Oh, she was definitely going to tease Clark about that one.

Right on cue, the sliding glass door opened, and in swooped Superman, his cape billowing behind him like he'd rehearsed it. (He probably had. Guy was a perfectionist.) He landed with a soft thump on the balcony, gave her a smile that could melt icebergs, and started peeling off his suit.

"You're home early," Lois said, barely glancing away from the screen. She tossed another piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Just in time for the Shadowflame highlight reel. Kid's got wings made of fire, Clark. And that right hook? It could probably send the moon into orbit."

Clark, now halfway into his favorite plaid PJs, raised an eyebrow. "I saw it. He's... impressive."

"Impressive?" Lois whipped her head around, looking at him like he'd just called Mount Everest a molehill. "Clark, he knocked out Black Adam. With one punch. And oh yeah, he's Wonder Woman's son. How is this not the biggest story in the universe?"

Clark gave her one of his classic, slightly-too-amused smiles. "You're not wrong."

"I know I'm not wrong," Lois shot back, grinning. "Speaking of which, I've got to get an interview with him. You think Wonder Woman could help? You know, maybe convince Harry to sit down and chat about the whole 'I'm a wizard with flaming wings and I punch out evil demigods' thing?"

Clark finally settled on the couch next to her, trying to look serious but clearly failing. "You know he's been through a lot, Lois. Maybe give him some time. Besides, if anyone's getting the exclusive, shouldn't it be Clark Kent?"

Lois rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Like you've got a better shot than me. You know the lengths I'll go to for a scoop." She gave him a mischievous look and, in one fluid motion, let her robe drop to the floor, revealing the very strategic lingerie underneath.

Clark blinked. Once. Twice. "I—uh..."

Lois smirked, enjoying the moment. "See? Total Lane charm. How could Harry possibly resist?"

Clark just sat there, completely floored, his usual superhuman composure thoroughly shattered.

Leaning down, Lois kissed him on the cheek. "We'll talk about the interview later," she whispered. "For now, I've got other plans."

—

Klarion, Lord of Chaos (and yes, he gave himself that title, but come on, who's going to argue?), was currently sprawled on his ridiculously oversized couch, lazily watching a floating screen. On it, the latest superhero brawl played out like a pay-per-view event. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the head of his familiar, Teekl, a cat who had long since learned that there was no escaping Klarion's constant need for head pats and general chaos. Resistance was pointless.

"Boom! Right in the kisser!" Klarion cackled as Shadowflame—some kid who didn't look a day over seventeen—punched Black Adam so hard the guy flew through the air like a rag doll. Klarion's grin stretched ear to ear, like someone who just discovered the ice cream shop was offering free refills. "Now that's what I call entertainment!"

He looked down at Teekl, who was purring in that begrudging, "I guess I'll tolerate you for now" kind of way. Klarion gave her a little tap on the head—just enough to keep things interesting.

"Oh, don't be such a diva," Klarion said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Besides, check out that kid! He's got magic. And not just any magic—serious magic. We're talking 'Oops, I accidentally blew up half the universe' kind of power here."

On the screen, Shadowflame swooped through the sky with giant, flaming bird wings—because, of course, the guy had wings made of fire. Why wouldn't he? Klarion's eyes gleamed with a new kind of excitement, the same kind he got whenever he found a shiny new toy to play with.

He leaned in, chin resting on his palm as he watched Shadowflame knock Black Adam out cold for the second time. "Hmm... what if I gave him a little... nudge?" Klarion muttered to himself, which in Klarion-speak meant, "Let's throw a match on this gasoline and see what happens."

"This kid's got potential," Klarion continued, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Chaos potential." His grin turned wicked. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head—or rather, the flaming, out-of-control pinwheels that passed for his thought process.

Teekl flicked her tail, clearly unimpressed with Klarion's grand ideas. But Klarion wasn't the type to plan things out. To him, long-term thinking was boring. Why play chess when you could just flip the board?

"Come on, Teekl, don't be such a buzzkill," Klarion said, scratching behind her ears. She purred louder, but if cats could roll their eyes, Teekl would've done it by now. "We'll just throw a little chaos his way. What's the worst that could happen?"

Teekl gave him a pointed look, clearly indicating that so much could go wrong, but Klarion wasn't listening. He was too busy imagining the fun. Shadowflame, with those flaming wings of his, flying around wreaking accidental chaos while Klarion sat back with a bucket of popcorn? Oh, it would be glorious.

Klarion shot to his feet, practically bouncing with excitement. "Let's see what kind of fun we can stir up, Teekl," he said, giving his familiar one last pat before vanishing in a puff of smoke. "Things are about to get very, very interesting."

Teekl sighed, finally free to sulk in peace. Somewhere out in the universe, the delicate balance between order and chaos tilted just a little bit more, and Klarion? Well, he couldn't have been more thrilled.

—

Meanwhile, in the rather ominous but ridiculously cool Tower of Fate, Dr. Kent Nelson—also known as Doctor Fate—was having one of those "I really should've brought snacks" moments. At 106 years old, he'd seen a lot: ancient battles, cosmic disasters, and the occasional cat video. But nothing prepared him for the spectacle unfolding on the glowing orb in front of him.

Shadowflame, a kid who looked like he just came from a magic convention and not a day over seventeen, was delivering a jaw-shattering right hook to Black Adam—yes, that Black Adam, the guy who could level cities with a glare. But it wasn't just the punch that caught Kent's attention; it was the flaming wings that flared majestically from the kid's back. Seriously, who even has flaming wings? Kent couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

"Wow, talk about a dramatic entrance," Kent muttered, leaning closer to the orb. He squinted as he watched the footage on repeat. "If I had wings like that, I'd never need to take the stairs again."

Just then, the air in the room shifted, and Kent felt the familiar presence of Nabu—the ancient, wise, and sometimes annoyingly serious Lord of Order. Nabu's voice echoed in Kent's mind, sounding like a librarian scolding you for not returning your books on time.

"This boy possesses a remarkable power, Kent. You must pay attention."

"Thanks for the reminder, Nabu," Kent replied dryly, crossing his arms. "I was just about to grab a coffee and ignore the impending doom."

"He is filled with potential," Nabu continued, ignoring the sarcasm like a pro. "But potential unchecked leads to chaos."

Kent nodded, suddenly all business. He watched as Shadowflame, in a burst of fiery glory, sent Black Adam flying across the screen. The kid's power radiated with a chaotic energy that felt both exhilarating and dangerous. It was the kind of magic that could turn a game of charades into an epic battle royale.

"Okay, so he's strong," Kent said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But does he know how strong? Because last time I checked, blowing up the universe wasn't on any hero's résumé."

"Precisely," Nabu agreed. "He does not yet realize the extent of his abilities, nor the responsibility that comes with them."

Kent sighed, feeling the weight of the world—or maybe just a lot of bad decisions—resting on his shoulders. "Great, so it's up to us to babysit the next superhero who thinks he can take on the world with a punch and some pretty wings."

As he continued to study Shadowflame's antics on the orb, Kent noticed the boy's flaming wings weren't just for show. They pulsed with energy, almost alive, like they were cheering him on. If Kent squinted just right, he could see the kid was channeling chaos and order all at once, which was like mixing chocolate and pickles—dangerous and unpredictable.

"Why do I feel like this kid's about to set the world on fire?" Kent mused, shaking his head. "And not in the metaphorical 'you're on fire' way. More like 'let's roast marshmallows over the ashes'."

"He must be guided," Nabu said with a hint of urgency. "Chaos cannot exist without balance. We must ensure he finds his way."

"Right, because I'm just brimming with advice for teenagers," Kent replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's next? A heart-to-heart on managing power and emotions? I can already hear the eye rolls."

"It is essential," Nabu insisted. "The Lords of Chaos will not sit idly by."

Kent sighed again, realizing there was no escaping the cosmic game of babysitting he had signed up for. "Fine, but I'm bringing snacks next time. Kid's got potential, but I need some pizza to cope with this."

With a determined nod, Kent's mind raced with plans. He wouldn't just stand by while a powerful kid hurtled through the universe, potentially unraveling reality. No way.

"Alright, Shadowflame," he said, his voice filled with a mix of resolve and a hint of excitement. "You're about to get some guidance—whether you like it or not. Let's see if you can handle the fiery rollercoaster of being a superhero."

And just like that, the Tower of Fate felt a little less ominous and a lot more like a superhero hub. Kent was ready to dive into whatever chaos awaited him, all while hoping he'd get a chance to enjoy a slice of pizza along the way.

—

Meanwhile, in a hidden lair tucked away in Gotham's darkest corners, the Joker and his ever-loyal sidekick, Harley Quinn, were glued to a flickering screen. The footage looping before them featured none other than the new teenage superhero, Shadowflame. This kid was making waves—not just in the superhero community, but in the villainous circles as well. Why? Because he'd just delivered a jaw-shattering punch to Black Adam in the Sahara Desert that sent the mighty antihero soaring like a rag doll. Talk about a hero with flair!

"Look at him go, Harley!" the Joker cackled, bouncing in his seat like a kid who just discovered candy for breakfast. "That little flame-bird can throw a punch! Black Adam didn't see it coming! If I didn't know better, I'd say he was auditioning for a superhero movie!"

Harley Quinn clapped her hands in glee, her pigtails swaying wildly. "He's like a fiery little phoenix! Can we keep him? I promise I'll teach him how to juggle and throw pies! Who doesn't love pies?"

"Keep him? Sweetheart, we're not running a petting zoo here!" The Joker's eyes sparkled with mischief, already plotting the chaos he could unleash. "No, no, my dear Harley, we're here to add a little pizzazz to our lives. Imagine this: a new hero, fresh-faced and bright-eyed, thinking he can take on the world. We simply have to twist that innocence into something fun!"

Harley raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "You mean corrupt him? Like turning a sweet little cupcake into a bomb with sprinkles?"

"Exactly!" The Joker rubbed his hands together, his grin widening like a Cheshire cat. "We'll make it a delightful game! All we need to do is orchestrate a few 'accidents' here and there to lure him in. Think about it—a bank heist, a couple of exploding cakes… it'll be chaos wrapped in glitter!"

"And if he doesn't want to join the fun?" Harley asked, tilting her head in that adorably innocent way that only made the Joker chuckle harder.

"Oh, he'll want to play! Who wouldn't want to join the most entertaining circus in Gotham? Batman's too busy brooding in the shadows to notice our little flame-wielding prodigy. When he does show up, we'll be right there with popcorn, enjoying the show!"

Harley giggled, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of impending chaos. "Can we throw confetti, too? I love confetti! It's like fireworks but without the fire department involved!"

"Confetti? Oh, darling, we'll throw in everything but the kitchen sink! Maybe even the sink—who knows?" The Joker twirled around dramatically, his mind racing with ideas. "Imagine the drama, the excitement! We'll turn Gotham into a carnival of chaos, and our little flame-boy will be right in the center, wondering how he got caught up in our delightful mess!"

As they watched Shadowflame soaring through the air, wings made of flames flickering behind him, the Joker leaned back, a sinister grin plastered across his face. Gotham was about to get a whole lot more interesting, and he couldn't wait to see how this new player would fit into his endless game with Batman.

"Let the games begin!" he declared, the manic laughter echoing through the lair. With the flick of a switch, the Joker began to plot his next move, ready to introduce a new kind of madness to Gotham City—one that would blur the lines between heroism and villainy in the most entertaining way possible.

"Time to bring our little bird into the fold! Who knew being a villain could be this fun?" And just like that, the wheels of chaos were set in motion, and the Joker's plans for Shadowflame began to take flight.

—

The next day at Big Belly Burger, things were buzzing. Not just because of the smell of fries or the fact that Victor Stone was practically drooling over the menu, but because summer vacation was in full swing, and the place was packed with teenagers who had nothing better to do than gorge on burgers the size of their heads.

Fifteen-year-old Dick Grayson lounged in the booth, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. "Vic," he said, eyeing his friend, "if you get the double burger, I will make fun of you when you can't finish it."

Victor, unfazed, pointed at the menu like he was declaring war. "I'm hun, dude. When you drop the 'gry,' it's a whole new level of need."

Barbara Gordon, scrolling through her phone, shook her head. "I don't think that's how it works, but you do you, Vic."

Before anyone could argue the finer points of wordplay, the bell above the door chimed, and in walked their friend Bette Kane. She wasn't alone. Next to her was a girl none of them had seen before—tall, blonde, and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Hey, guys!" Bette waved, practically bouncing over to their booth. "Sorry I'm late. This is Artemis Crock, new scholarship student at Gotham Academy. She'll be joining us next month, and since I'm the super awesome Student Council President, I thought I'd introduce her to you all. You know, make her feel welcome."

Artemis gave a tight smile and a quick nod. "Hi."

"Nice to meet you!" Victor said, grinning like he was trying to sell her a used car.

Barbara offered a wave and scooted over to make room. "Glad you could join us."

Dick flashed his signature Grayson grin. "Hey, Artemis. No pressure, but we're kind of a big deal. You'll fit right in."

Artemis blinked. "Huh?"

Bette rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. Dick thinks he's invented a new language."

As they settled in and placed their orders—burgers, fries, and sodas bigger than their heads, naturally—Bette wasted no time bringing up the latest hot topic.

"So," she said, leaning in like she was about to share the secret to life, the universe, and everything, "have you guys seen the new Shadowflame video? It's all over the internet. He took down Black Adam! Black Adam! Who does that?"

Victor's eyes went wide. "I saw that. Dude punched Black Adam through a wall. I didn't even think that was possible."

Barbara, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Are we sure it wasn't, like, a movie stunt or something? I mean, I've heard about him, but..."

She didn't finish the thought, mainly because Dick shot her a quick look that said don't say anything. She'd heard plenty about Shadowflame, thanks to Dick. Specifically, she'd heard about something called Showergate—an incident that involved Harry Potter (aka Shadowflame) walking in on Supergirl while she was in the shower. Awkwardness, blushing, and a lot of League gossip followed.

But there was one problem: they couldn't exactly spill the beans. Being trained by Batman meant one thing above all—keep your mouth shut about secret identities. And considering Dick knew Shadowflame—personally—it was taking everything in him not to drop some major gossip.

"Oh, he's real," Dick said, doing his best to sound casual. "And... yeah, pretty flame. Really... flame."

Victor frowned. "Is that another one of your weird word things?"

Dick winked. "Maybe."

While Bette and Victor continued to rave about Shadowflame's epic showdown with Black Adam, Dick and Barbara exchanged subtle glances. Talking about him without giving away too much was like walking a tightrope. They both knew way more than they were letting on, but telling their friends that they were actually Robin and Batgirl? Yeah, that was a solid no.

Meanwhile, Artemis quietly sipped her soda, eyes darting around the group. She seemed tense, like she was waiting for something to go wrong. What Bette didn't know—what none of them knew—was that Artemis Crock came with a lot of baggage. Like, "my dad's a villain" baggage. Her father was Lawrence Crock, better known as Sportsmaster, and her mom? Former criminal Huntress, now paralyzed from the waist down. And her sister? Jade Nguyen, a.k.a. Cheshire, a world-class assassin.

But none of that was something you dropped casually over burgers. Instead, Artemis was determined to get out from under her family's shadow and become a hero herself. Which, sitting here with a group of seemingly normal kids (who she had no idea were anything but normal), felt a little surreal.

"So, Artemis," Bette asked, turning to her, "what do you think of Shadowflame?"

Artemis took a moment to answer, swirling her straw in her soda like it held the secrets of the universe. "He's... intense."

Barbara smiled. "Yeah, Gotham's got plenty of that. Intense is basically the city's slogan."

Victor laughed. "If it's not intense, is it even Gotham?"

Artemis managed a small smile, though she still seemed a bit on edge. "Guess I'll have to get used to it."

And with that, the conversation drifted into lighter topics—school, summer vacation, and how many fries Victor could realistically eat before he passed out. But underneath the laughs and banter, every one of them had something to hide.

Dick and Barbara, both secretly superheroes. Artemis, with her family's criminal past. And the shadow of a boy who was making waves as the world's newest hero, despite his own long list of secrets.

This was Gotham. And here, secrets were just part of the deal.

—

Lex Luthor had watched the footage of Shadowflame approximately 367 times in the last 24 hours. The exact number didn't really matter, but it felt worth noting. He had an entire empire to run, endless meetings to attend, and, oh yeah, plans to take over the world. But no, here he was, stuck in a loop, obsessing over some teenage superhero like a high schooler re-watching a viral TikTok. He barely even noticed the door to his office slide open.

"Coffee, Mr. Luthor?" Eve Tessmacher, his assistant, asked with a forced smile. She set down the cup—his billionth of the day—on the desk. Lex didn't even look at her.

"Ms. Tessmacher," he said, voice tight, "why do I feel like you're questioning my obsession with Shadowflame?"

"Well, because I am," Eve answered, crossing her arms. "You've been watching the same five seconds on loop. What's so special about him? Besides, you know, the cool powers and the fact that he just threw Black Adam through a brick wall."

Lex finally tore his eyes from the screen and gave Eve a look that suggested she'd just insulted his entire existence. "Special? Ms. Tessmacher, Shadowflame isn't just some teenage vigilante with a cool name and questionable fashion sense."

"Okay, but the black armor is pretty cool—" Eve began.

"Ms. Tessmacher, focus!" Lex snapped, pushing back from his desk. He stood and began pacing dramatically. It was a thing he did. "Shadowflame is the result of Project Chimera."

"Chimera? Like... the weird lion-snake-goat monster thing?"

Lex sighed. "No. Well, kind of. A year ago, my scientists found a boy on the verge of death in the Nevada desert. His DNA was... unique."

"Unique?" Eve repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Like, 'He needs extra vitamin D,' unique? Or—"

"Like 'he's got some kind of ancient creature spliced into his DNA,' unique," Lex interrupted. "That's when I had a brilliant idea—obviously. We spliced his DNA with Wonder Woman's."

Eve blinked. "Wait, you did what? You created a superhero smoothie?"

Lex ignored her. "The boy, Shadowflame, was meant to be my perfect weapon. A soldier designed to take down the Justice League's biggest guns—Superman, Wonder Woman, Shazam... But there was a tiny problem."

"There always is," Eve muttered.

Lex threw his hands up in frustration. "Before we could implant the subliminal commands to ensure his loyalty, the Justice League found out about the facility and raided it. They took him. They rescued him. And now, that boy is their new poster child."

"Yikes," Eve said, looking back at the footage. "So… what's the plan now? You can't just clone him or something?"

"If only," Lex grumbled, sinking back into his chair like a deflated balloon. "The creature DNA inside him deteriorates when we try to replicate it. Without him, Project Chimera is a dead end. My perfect weapon—gone."

Lex Luthor didn't admit defeat. Not ever. But here he was, sitting in his penthouse office, lamenting over his grand plan like a supervillain who'd misplaced his evil remote control. For the first time, the man who always had a backup plan looked... stumped.

"Well, can't you, like, cover your tracks?" Eve asked, clearly trying to keep the conversation from spiraling into Lex's version of a therapy session.

Lex perked up a little. "Yes. Yes, of course." He straightened in his chair, his brain working at a million miles per hour again. "Wipe all records of my involvement. Blame the scientists. I'll send Deathstroke to take care of the loose ends."

Eve winced. "Loose ends? You mean—"

Lex waved a hand dismissively. "Eliminate them, Ms. Tessmacher. It's not like I need them anymore. The Justice League already knows they found the boy in a Luthorcorp facility, but they won't be able to pin it on me."

Eve scribbled something down on her tablet. "Sure. Anything else?"

Lex's mood shifted as a smug smile crossed his face. "Begin preparations for Project Kr."

"Project Kr?" Eve asked, scribbling furiously. "What's that?"

Lex's smile grew wider, and somehow even more sinister, which seemed like an accomplishment. "If they think Shadowflame was a problem, wait until they meet my next creation. This time, I won't lose. The League has no idea what's coming."

With that ominous declaration, Lex turned back to the screen and hit play. Shadowflame's face filled the screen again, but this time Lex wasn't brooding. Oh no, now he was plotting. And Lex Luthor, in full plotting mode, was the kind of nightmare that even Batman lost sleep over.

Well, probably.

—

In the shadowy halls of Nanda Parbat, Talia al Ghul was on a mission. It wasn't the usual mission of global domination or assassinations, though those were definitely on her father Ra's al Ghul's to-do list. No, today she was here to check on a very special "guest"—one who had quite literally crashed into their lives.

"Fell from the sky" might be an exaggeration, but the guy had shown up a year ago, battered and barely breathing, a cosmic gift-wrapped bundle of potential. Ra's, sensing the immense power radiating from him like an overcooked burrito, had ordered him dragged off to the Lazarus Pit. The result? Resurrection, of course! But, as with most things in life, there were side effects. Turns out the pit had a nasty habit of fracturing minds and creating uncontrollable chaos.

Now, the man—who Talia had affectionately dubbed the Grimm because of his ability to shift into a large, shaggy black dog—was stuck in a cot, drugged and restrained, with bizarre and unexplained phenomena happening all around him whenever his emotions flared up. She'd seen enough strange things in her life to know that was a recipe for disaster.

As they approached the chamber, Talia shot a worried glance at her father. "Father, maybe we should—"

"Nonsense!" Ra's interrupted, his voice like gravel. "He is an asset, Talia. We can mold him into a weapon for the League. He's a tool, nothing more." His expression was stern, but Talia could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. Perhaps a hint of paternal concern? Nah, probably just gas.

The Grimm lay on the cot, looking less like a weapon and more like a very confused puppy. His shaggy hair covered most of his face, and when he blinked awake, Talia felt a pang of protectiveness. This was no mere tool; he was a person, one who had suffered greatly.

"Hey there, big guy," Talia said, her voice soothing. "How are you feeling today?"

He blinked up at her, his eyes a mix of confusion and curiosity. "I think I'm… well, I'm here, which is an improvement, right?"

Ra's made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of derision. "You should be focusing on remembering who you are."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Father," Talia shot back, rolling her eyes. "You're so inspiring."

Ra's merely grunted, surveying the room with an air of detached interest before taking his leave. "I expect progress, Talia." The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Talia alone with the Grimm.

Finally! She had the chance to connect with him without her father breathing down her neck. "I have something that might help you remember," she said, her heart racing a bit. This was it! Time to show him the outside world. Maybe it would spark something in him.

She pulled out a small device and activated it. A holographic image flickered to life, displaying a clip of a new superhero—Shadowflame—charging into battle against Black Adam. Flames danced around Shadowflame like he was auditioning for a part in a superhero movie.

As the footage rolled, Talia watched with excitement, hoping this glimpse of the world would help awaken the Grimm's memories. But suddenly, she noticed a shift in him. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it was like a light bulb turned on in his head.

"Harry!" he gasped, his voice cracking with emotion. "That's my Prongslet!"

Talia's heart skipped a beat. "You recognize him? That's great!"

"Yeah, but he looks… different." Sirius Black, or as he had become known, the Grimm, looked almost panicked. "He's taller, more muscular, and—wait, does he have wings?!"

"Uh, yeah. That's a thing now, apparently," Talia said, trying to sound nonchalant. "So, what's the deal? You remember him?"

"I need to protect him!" Sirius insisted, urgency flooding his voice. "I don't care what I have to do. He's my responsibility."

Talia couldn't help but smile at the fierce determination in his eyes. "Okay, we'll figure this out together. We'll find a way to reach him. I promise."

In that dimly lit chamber, a plan began to form, forged in shared concern and the budding connection between them. Two unlikely allies, ready to take on the world—and a mysterious new superhero—together. Who knew how wild this adventure would get? But then again, when had life ever been boring for Talia al Ghul?

—

In the heart of the desolate Department of Mysteries, Lord Voldemort stood among the rubble that had once housed the Veil of Death, looking like a kid who just found out that his birthday cake was a lie. His crimson eyes narrowed, glaring at the debris around him, each broken stone a reminder of his grand plans gone up in smoke. Seriously, was there a "how to conquer death" manual somewhere that he'd missed?

Just a few days earlier, he'd been in Nurmengard, chatting—well, more like arguing— with Gellert Grindelwald about the Deathly Hallows. Picture this: two dark wizards, one a self-proclaimed master of the universe, the other a charismatic madman, throwing around spells like they were playing wizarding catch. The conversation had gone downhill fast, ending with Voldemort firing off a killing curse that might have been a bit too enthusiastic. But hey, when the fate of immortality is at stake, you don't exactly hold back. Unfortunately, while he was busy with Grindelwald, Dumbledore's little fan club—the Weasleys—had decided to throw a surprise party for him, and it was anything but friendly.

These so-called "blood traitors" had stormed through the Veil with thousands of wizards, witches, goblins, Veela, and even a few dragons. Who knew a family reunion could look so chaotic? The result? His empire had been reduced to rubble and ashes, with more Death Eaters missing than Voldemort cared to admit. The thought made his blood boil.

As he scanned the remains of his plans, his gaze landed on Lucius and Draco Malfoy, who were grinning like they had just won the wizarding lottery. Seriously, did they not get how dire the situation was? Bellatrix Lestrange was cackling nearby, though whether her laughter was joyous or mournful was up for debate—her husband Rodolphus had been among the fallen. Nothing says "team spirit" like laughing in the face of death.

Then there was Antonin Dolohov, lurking like a gloomy cloud. "My Lord," he said cautiously, "the Unspeakables believed the Veil was not just a portal to death but to another world entirely."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, which was quite the feat for someone with no eyebrows. Another world? Now that was intriguing. He could already feel the gears turning in his mind, spinning faster than a wizard on a broomstick. The Elder Wand was firmly in his grasp after taking it from Dumbledore—thank you very much, and the Cloak and Stone were still out there, just waiting for him to claim them. It was like a game of magical Monopoly, but he wasn't about to pass Go without collecting all his properties.

"Clear away this rubble!" Voldemort commanded, his voice slicing through the air like a poorly aimed curse. "I want access to the Veil—now!" His tone left no room for debate, and his followers scrambled to obey, looking like anxious house-elves during spring cleaning.

As they worked, Voldemort imagined the Cloak and Stone lying on the other side of the Veil, just out of reach, taunting him like a particularly smug snitch. He could almost hear the Weasleys' laughter as they believed they'd thwarted him. They had unwittingly opened a door to a new world, and Voldemort intended to walk through that door like he owned the place.

"Once I obtain the Hallows," he mused, excitement bubbling beneath the surface, "I'll be unstoppable! The world will fall at my feet, bowing before their new lord."

He could already picture it: the great Voldemort, master of death and ruler of all. The vision was as sweet as a Butterbeer on a hot summer day.

"Make haste!" he shouted, his heart racing at the thought of immortality. "I will not be denied again!" The thrill of it was intoxicating, sending sparks of energy racing through him.

As the dust settled, a sinister smile crept across his lips. The world beyond the Veil awaited him, and this time, he wouldn't be a mere mortal. Oh no, this time, he'd seize it all. It was time for Voldemort to show the world just how serious he was about his plans. And maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get his hands on those Hallows and give death a run for its money.

---

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